


Give Me Some Of That Bass

by drxpdead



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: A bit smutty but not too graphic, A whole lot of sexual tension, Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Awkward Parent Conversations, Bands, Bisexual!Dan, Bisexual!Phil, Boys Kissing, Chapters are named after songs, College Parties, Emotional Confrontations, Fluff, Friendly advice, Friends With Benefits, M/M, Mature Sexual Content, Music, Parties, Really Slow Updates, Secret Relationships, Super Mega Best Friend Squad Goals, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Crush, Will add tags as updated, bass player!phil, competitions, lots of swearing, not much just a few moments, rival bands, singer!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-22
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2018-04-16 14:36:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 57,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4628934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drxpdead/pseuds/drxpdead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Playing music has always been a big part of Phil's life. From the time he was five, and banging spoons against the table, to present day; seventeen years old and apart of the upcoming Alt. Rock/Everything-In-Between band, Heinous. </p><p>It's an easy life to live, he's sure. Making music with his best friends, trying to avoid failing high school the best he can, and getting his parents to stay off his back about 'that God-awful noise'. </p><p>And there's Dan Howell. </p><p>His sex-on-legs, hot tempered boyfriend, who miraculously shares his love of music. It's like they're meant to be. </p><p>You know, except they're apart of different bands. Rival bands, to be exact, with every member hating the other, with a vengeance. They know damn well not to publicise their relationship, not with a certain competition coming up that could make or break them; the tension would be off the charts and would do nothing but cause unwanted drama. </p><p>But you can't keep secrets forever. And with the stress of practice and their band members on their backs, it's getting harder to keep it in the dark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Don't You Know Who I Think I Am?

In the grand scheme of the world, it seemed a pretty universal rule that, you don't answer the phone when making out with your significant other. It was rude, completely unnecessary, and in some cases, downright disrespectful. 

Phil had just pressed Dan onto his bed, kissing a path up his neck to his jaw, when the insistent ringing began, making him pause. But Dan had gripped his hair and pulled him up, pressing their lips together heatedly before pulling away an inch. 

"Ignore it." He breathed hotly against Phil's lips, his hands trailing across his shoulders and his hips lifting to grind against him. And fuck, Phil was more than glad to do so, leaning down to capture his lips again. 

After another few minutes, Phil's shirt was gone, tossed to the floor hastily, and Dan was worshipping his chest with his hands, moaning against Phil's lips. Phil didn't know why, but his boyfriend seemed to derive some pleasure in just touching his body. Not that he was complaining; those pretty sounds he made were heavenly. 

But it was short lived, when Phil's phone sprang to life again, blasting the instrumental tune of 'w.a.m.s' loudly and making him pull away a second time. 

"It might be important." He complained, trying to loosen Dan's hold on his hips and clear the lusty haze from his mind.

"More important than possibly getting laid right now?" Dan questioned, nipping Phil's earlobe gently. Phil rolled his eyes.

"It could be a life or death situation." He argued, sitting up and straddling Dan's waist. By then, the ringing had stopped, and Dan smiled up at him victoriously, hooking his fingers into the top of Phil's jeans. 

"Problem solved." He said, kissing Phil's collarbone. Phil hummed in agreement, carding his hands through Dan's hair. Then kissing him roughly, sucking on his bottom lip and smirking when he gripped his thighs tightly. 

"Love it when you take control baby." Dan said, giving him a dirty grin when Phil pinned his arms above his head on the bed. He leaned his head back, giving the other boy more access to kiss and suck against the skin of his neck. "No marks. Taylor was asking questions last time."

Phil made a small noise of acknowledgment, too busy grinding down against his boyfriend to answer him. 

He already knew who was calling him, and he knew they wouldn't stop until he answered. Persistent sons of bitches that they were. And he was proven right when his phone rang for the third time, and he finally pulled away from Dan completely, grabbing the device from the table beside them. 

"It'll only be a minute." Phil said to Dan, patting his chest and taking the call. "What the fuck do you want?" He said irritatedly into the phone. 

"Practice started half an hour ago." Grayson said calmly, and Phil could only imagine the bored look he was most likely wearing. "Chris is pissed."

"Chris is always pissed." Phil replied, staring at the wall in front of him. "I already told him I'd be late, he can't be mad at me. And it's not like we haven't been practicing everyday as it is."

Dan leaned up on his elbows, shooting Phil a wink while tracing his fingers lightly across his own stomach, up to his chest. His eyes were hooded and shining with want, and Phil exhaled heavily. 

"You know how he gets, especially this time of the year." Grayson said with a sigh. For someone who had the vocal cords of a saint, he didn't talk with much enthusiasm. "It's for the best you don't argue and just get your ass down here."

Phil hesitated, watching Dan underneath him sticking two fingers in his mouth and sucking on them slowly while keeping eye contact. "I... I think I'm coming down with something, actually." He said, coughing once as realistically as possible. "Sore throat."

"You don't need a healthy throat to play the bass, loser."

Phil groaned, running his fingers through his hair. "Tell him I'll be there in ten minutes. And to go fuck himself."

There was no reply, just the dial tone blaring in his ear, and he threw the phone onto the bed. He leaned down over Dan, placing his hands on either side of his head. 

"Twenty minutes?" Dan asked pleadingly, pouting out his bottom lip. Phil chuckled and kissed him quickly, before getting off of him and grabbing his shirt from where it had landed. 

"How about," he said, pulling the shirt on and going to his drawers for a cleaner pair of socks. "Later on tonight, we go out. Go see a movie or something, or just make out in the dark, whatever." He slipped his shoes on and sat on the edge of the bed, watching Dan sit up next to him  
"Pick you up at eight?"

Dan nuzzled his shoulder, shaking his head with an apologetic stare. "Practice at seven, it definitely won't be over till ten, that bastard  
Tyler."

Phil winced. "Fuck. We don't go past an hour and a half. Cause Chris is a lazy arse, but still."

Dan whined, tugging at Phil's belt loops insistently. "This isn't fair. I haven't seen you below the belt in ages."

Phil whined back sarcastically, grabbing Dan's face and kissing him firmly, tilting his head slightly and teasing his tongue against Dan's lips. He pulled back after a few seconds, smiling warmly. 

"We'll make it work." He mumbled. "Promise. I'll, break my ankle or something. And we can have hospital sex like in the movies."

Dan laughed, kissing him chastely before pushing him away. "Okay, go. I'm staying here, though." He later back against the bed, tossing his arms behind his head casually and watching Phil grab everything he needed. He stopped as he was about to leave, blowing Dan a dramatic kiss and then closing the door behind him. 

His mum had his car for the day, because hers was out of commission at the moment, so he grabbed his bike and began pedaling down the street. It wasn't too far a journey, five minutes of he was willing to risk his life. 

He hated how hard Chris was working the band, forcing them to rehearse every one of their songs until they got it perfect, or until they were semi-decent. They weren't long sessions, but when you had them pretty much everyday, it got old real fast. And there was barely any time to himself anymore, because they always wanted him in for practice, no matter the excuses he made up. He could be in a coma, and they'd need his help. 

And that always meant less time with Dan. 

They were both members of different bands, and that meant different hours of practice, making it almost impossible for them to even have a minute alone. For the last couple weeks, they'd been trying to hang out whenever it was allowed, which wasn't much. Phil had been really looking forward to at least a half hour with his boyfriend this once. 

He knew it was for a reason. This was a big time for all of them, and every moment counted. Not that Phil didn't hate it all in the first place. 

But he didn't have any more time for brooding, because he pulled up to the abandoned shed where they always grouped up, skidding to a stop and dropping the bike to the ground before heading inside.

It was pretty spacious, enough for all their equipment and a couple couches shoved into the corner, but they had to bust all the glass out of the few windows because they were too dirty to let in any light. The dust was mostly bearable by now, at least, not choking them every time they breathed. And it was in the middle of kinda nowhere; a field that had no other occupants within a few hundred yards. They always got complaints about the noise anywhere else. 

As usual, everyone else was here already. Chris was pacing the floor in clear frustration, biting his lip and folding his arms across his chest. Grayson was sprawled out across the bigger couch disinterestedly, writing on his shoes with pen, and Elliot was sat at his drum set, tapping a few random beats, his headphones plugged into his ears. Phil wasn't surprised to see his hair was bright purple, even though it had been a deep green just two days ago. 

"Glad you decided to grace us with your presence." Chris snapped when he saw Phil, picking up his guitar and slinging it across his shoulder. "Been waiting damn near an hour." 

Phil rolled his eyes, heading over to the far corner where his bass was leaning against the wall. He'd forgotten it here yesterday, rushing to leave and go see Dan for the last fifteen minutes he had before his curfew. "Excuse me, your highness."  
He sneered. "I already told you I was gonna be a bit late. My whole day doesn't revolve around this, you know."

"Well it should. You know we can't waste any of the time we have right now."

"Oh, shut it you two." Elliot piped up from where he was, pulling the headphones from his ear and scoffing at them. "There's enough drama already without you at each other's throats."

"I call it sexual tension." Grayson said as he joined them, patting Chris on the shoulder. 

"Fuck off, Gray." Phil scowled at his amusement. "He's so not my type anyway."

"Alright, enough you fuckers." Elliot yelled. "Let's get this over with."

It was a grueling hour and a half that Phil didn't have the patience to sit through. He was a bit out of it, he'd admit, having so severely missed out on his mini session with Dan earlier. More than once he missed a chord or two, and Chris called him out every time, using a few choice words that didn't hold much threat. Even Gray and Ellie, usually on his side about Chris's quick temper, gave him questioning glances. 

"Alright, this whole thing is shit." Chris said eventually. "We're done. Might as well just quit the whole thing."

"Don't be such a pessimist." Ellie said cheerfully, tossing his sticks into the air and catching them. "We still have time."

"Not with Mr. Airhead over here!" Chris exclaimed, pointing at Phil. "There's almost no chance we'll beat those pissheads who think they're better than us."

Phil glanced down at his shoes at the mention of 'pissheads'. There was only one group he could possible be talking about. 

"'The Cutting Edge'. What kind of shit name is that?" 

"I thought you were mad they thought of it first." Gray said, smiling at Chris's death glare. 

"That... is not the point, okay?" He said firmly. "The point is, they're pretentious assholes who think they're better than everyone just because they can play a beat. And we have to prove them wrong."

"Damn straight." Ellie said without looking up from his phone, where he was most likely texting his current girlfriend of the week. "Put them in their place."

Phil slipped the strap of his bass over his head, sliding it into its case gingerly and trying to stay out of the conversation. 

"And that stupid PJ." Chris practically snarled, tearing a path across the room now in his heated mood. "Always smirking like he owns the world. Thinks he looks so good in that fucking bandana, the prick."

Phil looked up and caught Grayson's eye, smiling when he mouthed 'sexual tension' behind Chris's back. 

"If we're done here." Phil finally jumped in. "I'm gonna go ahead and head out. Important things to do and such." He saluted them before pulling the door open, grabbing the bars of his bike and rolling it to the path. He pulled out his phone at the same time, sending a quick message to Dan. 

Phil:  
still in hell?

It was only 7:32, he knew Dan was still at his own practice. But only a moment later, his phone chimed and he smiled. 

Lover:  
suck my ass. peej is on his period or something, can't go two minutes without shouting. 

The only reason Dan's name was 'lover' in his phone was so his band mates didn't get suspicious. 

Phil climbed onto his bike and began the journey back home, grateful it was a windy night. Their practice space got stuffy after a while. 

His phone chimed again and he unlocked it, steadying the bike with his legs. 

Lover:  
TCE is gonna be the death of me

TCE. The Cutting Edge, Dan's band. 

Yes, the same band Chris had been ragging on during practice. That was the predicament about the relationship he had with Dan. 

Everyone in Phil's band hated everyone in Dan's band, with such a passion that they couldn't even remember the reason why. Except, when they'd run into each other at some trashy party a year back, and Phil had spilled his disgusting beer all over Dan, he found that the brown eyed boy wasn't resentful in the slightest. So he'd offered to help him clean the mess they'd both made. And they'd made out for almost an hour in the bathroom upstairs. 

And now they were dating, unknown to their respective bad members, but they didn't really mind. 

Phil:  
write a song about it 

He got a frown-face emoji in response and smiled, pulling into the driveway of his house as he locked his phone again. 

He was tired and frustrated, and more than ready to strip out of his sweaty clothes and go to bed. Tomorrow was Saturday, which thankfully meant no school, but also called for a longer practice session than usual. 

But he wouldn't think about that right now.


	2. Kiss Me Again

Dan was a singer. 

It was one of the many things that had Phil so intrigued by him; he was always mumbling under his breath some random lyrics he was working on, or flat out belting his favorite songs, and it was always beautiful. His voice was a godsend that was greatly treasured by everyone who had the pleasure of hearing it. 

His vocals were the main attraction of his band, TCE, or that's what Phil liked to think. He honestly wouldn't have ever listened to any of their music if he hadn't personally heard Dan's singing, wanting to hear how it sounded with different chords and beats accompanying it. 

And Dan was never shy about singing, whether it was in public, or at practice, or when he was alone with Phil and they had nothing better to do. Those were some of his favorite moments they spent together. 

So it came as quite a surprise when he was calling Phil at six in the morning on Monday, complaining about stage fright. 

"You've never been nervous about singing in front of people before, babe." Phil said, the phone shoved between his shoulder and ear as he looped a belt through his jeans. School didn't even start for another two hours, but Phil couldn't find it in him to even try and go back to bed.  Once he was awake, it was impossible to fall back asleep. "What's so different now?"

"There's gonna be so many people there." Dan said, his voice slightly muffled, possibly because he was still in bed, his face shoved into the pillows like he did whenever he was feeling insecure. "All of our other gigs have always been medium sized, if not extremely small. Like, 150 people at most, and even that's nerve wracking. This is the biggest audience we've ever had."

"Well, there's always the most popular solution." Phil said, staring in the mirror over his dresser as he tried to make something of his hair. "Imagine them all naked."

Dan laughed on his end. "No, they'd only end up looking like you."

"That's a good thing, yeah? Imagine you're just singing to a thousand me's."

"That'd be horrifying."

Phil frowned even though Dan couldn't see him. "Don't hurt my feelings. It's almost like you don't like looking at me."

"Well...."

"Dan Howell, I will dump you over this phone call right now."

Dan laughed again, much louder than before, and Phil smiled. He loved making Dan laugh like that, he didn't do it often. 

"You know I'm just kidding." Dan said lightly. "I can't keep my eyes off of you." And Phil would never admit to the small swell of pride he felt in his chest at those words. 

"I would hope so." He replied, moving over to the closet to try and find a shirt that wasn't torn in random places and didn't have any offensive words on it. The selection was small, and he settled on a gray Rolling Stones T-shirt that hung loosely on his lean frame. "Hey, have you heard anything new about FTC lately?"

"No." Dan sighed. "PJs been freaking out about it, though, taking all his frustration out on us. Sometimes I wonder if it's even worth it."

Phil agreed wholeheartedly, humming into the phone. "But then no one would get to hear that pretty voice of yours."

FTC was a... competition, for lack of a better word. All kinds of bands and music artists signed up and did their best, playing against other groups in the hopes of making it to the top. It stood for Fuck The City, a name that no one really knew the meaning of but everyone collectively agreed with. It was a bloodthirsty battle of the bands that caused all kinds of drama and tension, because everyone wanted to win. There were stories that circulated the music scene of sabotage and cheating, so lethal and intricate that some people were afraid to even try and enter. 

"That's their loss, then. And they can all blame our fucktard of a guitarist." Dan snorted. There was a rustling sound and Phil assumed that Dan was finally getting out of bed. 

For all the talk he had heard of the infamous PJ, Phil had never actually met him. He'd seen him in passing, and was always forced to listen to his boyfriend and Chris badmouthing him, but his actual personality was a mystery. 

"He is good with his fingers." Phil said with a smirk, leaving his room and flipping the light on in the bathroom, grabbing his toothbrush and turning the water on. 

"Hey now." Dan snapped, jealousy just barely leaking through his tense tone. "No talking about other guys' fingers around your easily influenced boyfriend."

Phil only laughed in response, putting Dan on hold for a moment to complete his bathroom ritual. After he'd finished, he headed downstairs to the kitchen, switching the coffee pot on and grabbing a few slices of bread for toast. 

He wasn't much of an early riser, usually pushing his luck on when he finally got out of bed and mostly running late to school, and rarely was he up before his parents. After a few more minutes of easy conversation with Dan, he heard the telltale sounds of footsteps coming downstairs. 

"Hey, I have to go." Phil said into his phone, watching his mum walk into the kitchen and head straight for the coffee. 

"Aww." Dan complained. "I'll see you later, then?"

"Definitely. Make yourself pretty for me."

"Nerd." 

Phil smiled and hung up, biting into his toast as he slid his phone into his pocket. "Morning." He said cheerily to his mum, who only yawned at his greeting. 

She was a professor at the nearby university, teaching American History, and she took her job seriously. She stayed up quite late most nights, making sure her lesson plans were solid, and any grading or paperwork was completely finished. Phil didn't know how she was even able to function this early in the morning. 

Unfortunately, it also meant she took Phil's school life even more seriously. 

"I got a call from your Physics teacher last night." She said after downing half her mug of coffee. "Said your grades aren't improving in the slightest."

Phil looked down at his shoes, noticing one of the laces was untied, trailing across the floor. "I guess." He replied stupidly. His mum sighed tiredly and his stomach twisted guiltily. 

"I thought you said you were going try this time, Phil." She said, setting her mug on the counter. "We agreed that letting play in that band of yours required you to at least get decent grades, and right now, you're close to failing."

"I know." Phil sighed, running his hand over his face. "I know, and I... am trying, but I've been extremely busy with a lot of things, and it's all hard to keep up with-"

"Those are excuses." She said calmly. "I just don't want you relying so much on making music, and end up not having some kind of back up plan."

"And I understand that." Phil said. "But, I don't think school's the only thing I need to focus on. I mean, it is important, but I have other things in my life that I need to worry about, too."

"Just... try and do better." His mum said, grabbing her mug and walking back out of the kitchen. Phil watched her leave and exhaled roughly, leaning back against the counter. 

He knew it was his fault that his grades weren't so great; he was abort procrastinator and the idea of actually putting work into school was none too appealing. And he had too many distractions as it was. Heinous took up a very large portion of his time, and rest of it was usually reserved for Dan. He couldn't fit in homework and projects anywhere, and he knew that was unhealthy. But that was the way it was, and his parents didn't approve of it all. They didn't know about Dan either, nobody did, it was a risk neither of them could take. 

It was way too early, but Phil decided to go ahead and leave, because he didn't think he could survive another hour in the house with his parents. He grabbed his bag from upstairs and his keys before climbing into his car and making his way to school.

The funny thing was, all the members of TCE attended the same school as Phil's band. Maybe that was where the whole rivalry thing had started, Phil didn't really know, but it did make the day a whole lot harder the bear. He couldn't walk to class without one of the other band's members giving him and his friends dirty looks and gestures, or even a few choice words. The upside was that he got to see Dan everyday, though, so he didn't mind it much. 

The building was pretty much empty when Phil arrived, being that nobody even tried showing up until five minutes before lessons. He didn't think he'd ever seen it so quiet in his life, and it was actually pretty creepy, if he was being honest. He plugged his headphones into his ears, scrolling through his playlist for a while and trying to find a suitable song, before just pressing shuffle. He smiled as a couple girls have him looks at the volume, obviously not appreciating the heavy bass and drums that could probably be heard down the hall. 

He had checked all of his social media and gone through at least ten songs by the time the halls began filling up, and he grabbed all of his things before heading upstairs, to the bathroom furthest down the hall. 

Him and Dan had discovered long ago that this particular bathroom was the least frequented in the mornings, since people didn't like making such an unnecessary trip when there were closer bathrooms, and had begun meeting up in one of the stalls before class started. It was routine by now, and Phil always hated when one of them missed a day of school, or ran late and couldn't rendezvous. 

Dan was already waiting for him, and as soon as Phil had locked the door, he was attacked by the brown haired boy, being pushed against the wall and kissed fiercely. He yelped in surprise, but smiled and wrapped his arms around Dan, pulling him closer. 

"Missed you." Dan breathed against his lips before kissing again, his hands digging into Phil's biceps. Phil pulled away, sighing contentedly as Dan immediately attached his lips to his neck, pressing softly against the skin. 

"We saw each other two days ago." Phil replied with a small grin. "And we were on the phone barely an hour ago."

"I get desperate." Dan said, looking him in the eyes with a small pout. 

"Oh, I know you do." Phil laughed as Dan slapped his chest. He kissed him again, slowly, reaching up and tangling his fingers into his hair. Dan groaned softly, tightening his grip on Phil's shirt. 

The bell interrupted them, making them pull apart reluctantly, and Phil knew he shared the same look of disappointment as his boyfriend. This was pretty much the only time they had together on weekdays, if they both had band practice. 

"Call me?" Dan asked, staring up at him expectantly, still clutching his shoulders. 

"'Course I will." Phil said, pecking his lips one last time and untangling their limbs. "Would never miss a chance to hear you complain about the world and everyone in it."

Dan rolled his eyes and shoved him out of the open door. The hallway was emptying quickly, a chaotic mess of students trying to make it to class on time, and Phil gripped Dan's fingers for a second longer before they separated, heading off to their own classrooms.

Phil's first class was Algebra II, and it was absolutely torturous as could be expected. The teacher was boring and only spoke in low, monotonous tones, but she was also extremely strict and would call out anybody for even remotely disrupting the lesson. He sat next to Ellie, at least, so it wasn't too bad of an hour. 

"Making out with some hopeless girl in the toilets?" His purple haired friend said as Phil sat down, having barely made it before the last bell rang. Phil smiled at him, running his fingers through hair. 

"Something like that."


	3. Tongue Tied

"The thing about being bisexual," Grayson said, pointing a half-eaten fry at each of them in turn. "Is that you get shit from everyone, no matter what their beliefs are. Like, you have those people that do accept you fully and don't judge you at all. But the majority response is that you don't exist, because heaven forbid you like both genders."

Phil laughed at his words but still nodded in agreement. 

"And what would to know about that, Gray?" Elliot asked, twisting his phone in his hands. "You told us two weeks ago you were pan."

"The struggle is the same." Gray replied. "We're the outliers because our preference in partners isn't fixed. I think I can argue on behalf of my bi and asexual brothers and sisters."

The day had dragged on almost unbearably slow, and Phil was glad when lunch finally rolled around so he could have a break. Or, at least, try to. Ellie and Gray were always arguing about one thing or another, and their constant back and forth was a major distraction for Phil. And usually Chris was the mediator during these times, but he hadn't showed up yet, and Phil was starting to get a headache. He didn't have the power to shut them up. 

He hadn't seen Dan all day either, and his mood was quickly turning sour. He still had half the day left, of sitting through classes, pretending to listen to whatever the teacher was lecturing about and trying not to actually fall asleep at his desk.

And now he was sitting alone with his arguing friends who showed no sign of getting any quieter. 

"How would that even work? You can't just shove a banana in there without it possibly exploding." Elliot complained. They had switched from their earlier topic faster than Phil could keep up with. 

"It doesn't matter how well it fits, as long as you-"

"I'm gonna go look for Chris." Phil said, interrupting whatever Grayson was trying to explain. The two boys barely spared him a glance, and he left with a sigh.

It wasn't unlike Chris to skip lunch, he preferred hanging out in one of the empty classrooms with a few other people so the madness of the cafeteria didn't make him blow. His temper was a force to be reckoned with, and pretty much everyone in the school knew that. It was easier and a lot safer. 

But it was hard finding him because they liked to switch hiding spots every now and then. It was kind of against the rules to be anywhere besides the cafe or the library without explicit permission, and they couldn't risk getting caught. 

Phil didn't even know why he was actively seeking out Chris's presence, it just seemed a better alternative to... everything else. 

It seemed to be his lucky day though, because just as he was rounding the corner on the second floor, he ran into his friend face first, almost falling to the ground on impact. Chris grabbed his biceps to steady both of them. 

"Awesome." Chris said, sounding winded as if he'd been running. "I was just looking for you."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "For what, exactly?" It was never usually a good thing when Chris was 'looking for him'. 

Chris looked around them, scoping the empty halls for anyone that could possible eavesdropping. Phil was about to start questioning him again, but never got a chance before Chris was dragging him down the hall a few meters and pushing him into a closet. It was dark, but a second later, a light flipped on, revealing they were cramped into one of the custodian closets, filled with dirty mops and brooms. Phil stared at Chris in shock. 

"What the hell is going on?" He asked in exasperation. "It's not very civil, shoving people into closets, you know."

"Sorry." Chris said, not sounding the least apologetic. "I just couldn't risk anyone overhearing."

"Overhearing what? What did you do?" Phil crossed his arms. "Did you kill someone? I've told you that you need to stop carrying that crowbar around with you-"

"I didn't kill someone." Chris snapped. "Where the fuck did you get the idea I carry a crowbar with me?"

Phil shrugged. "Elliot said you have a whole arsenal under your bed."

"And you believed him?"

"Mostly, yeah. It's not hard to believe when it's you we're talking about."

"Okay, this isn't what I wanted to talk to about." Chris said. He took a deep breath, relaxing and grasping Phil's shoulders again. He looked at him seriously. "I have a mission for you."

Phil shook his head. "No."

"I haven't even said anything." Chris complained. 

"You didn't have to. I know damn well whatever you're planing is not a good idea, and I do not want to go to jail again." Phil said. 

"That was not my fault." 

"I'm not doing it."

"Will you at least let me tell you what it is?" Chris pleaded. "And then you can reject me if you want."

Phil paused, debating on whether or not he should even listen. Chris had a way of being entirely too persuasive about things like this; he'd convinced all of them to try all kinds of things that usually ended horribly, sometimes with minor injuries. But it was also useless trying to deny him. He huffed in irritation by nodded. 

"Fine, what is it?"

Chris grinned "Okay, so, TCE is having a party next week, and I need you to go."

Phil scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. "Just me?" He asked and Chris nodded. "That doesn't make any sense, why can't we all just go?"

"It's a private sort of party." Chris explained. "Obviously, they wouldn't invite us, and I think it's because they're planning something."

"Planning something?" Phil deadpanned. "What, like some kind of master plan to sabotage us or something? Are you being serious right now?"

Chris rolled his eyes, clearly getting frustrated. "It may seem a bit far fetched, but we can't be taking any chances. They've done it before."

"You mean the time they slashed our tires and cut one of your guitar strings? Chris, they're high schoolers."

"Yeah, and that shit cost me half of my savings! I just don't want them to get in our way."

Phil ran a hand through his hair. "And you think they're gonna be scheming at this party?"

"It's just a possibility."

"And what you don't think they'd recognize me? A member of the band that they're gonna be plotting against?"

Chris smiled again, poking a finger against Phil's chest. "And that's why you're going to wear a disguise."

Phil scowled and pushed Chris's hand away. "I am not dressing up so you can have me sneak into some lame party and listen to your enemies possible threats."

Chris grabbed his shirt, pouring severely and goddammit, started begging. "Please, Phil. You're my only hope. You know Ellie and Gray won't do it, and I'm grounded right now. Pleeeaase. I'll never ask you for anything else, I promise."

That was a complete lie, but Phil chose to ignore it. And honestly, he wasn't too opposed to the idea. The only reason he was even considering doing it was because there was the chance to see Dan. Without their bands getting in the way. 

Phil would be by himself, and Dan could easily sneak away from his own group, they'd probably be too drunk to notice or care. They could lock themselves in some empty room or something, Phil didn't care, as long as he could finally get his hands on his boyfriend for more than ten minutes. They could have all night...

"I'll do it." Phil said, a bit shaky from letting his imagination get the best of him. "But you owe me fucking big time."

Chris smiled again, throwing himself at Phil and hugging him tightly. Phil groaned and pushed him away. "Thank you, okay, I promise I'll do whatever you want."

The bell rang on the other side of the door, signaling the end of lunch and the start of last lesson. Phil was just about to leave when Chris grabbed his arm and pulled him around again. 

"What class do you have next?" He asked. Phil narrowed his eyes. 

"We've been friends for three years and you still don't know my schedule?"

"Am I supposed to? It's not like you know mine."

"You have Art History next."

Chris shrugged. "Sorry. I'm the worst friend ever, I got that. We have practice after school."

Phil shook his head. "Sorry, I have to work." He said, actually happy that his dad had demanded he start helping around the restaurant he co-owned.

Chris groaned but nodded; he knew there was no way to get around that. 

They exited the small closet after that, earning a few suggestive looks that Phil didn't want to know the meaning behind. Couldn't two guys hang out in a closet without it being weird?

His last class, Physics, was his least favourite part of the day, and he wasn't surprised he was failing. Hal the class was failing, and the other half had were either way too smart or were paying off someone else to do the work for them. 

The idea of the party was looming over his head like a rain cloud, with the smallest ray of sunshine shining through. He didn't like parties, never had, but this could literally be his only chance to possibly spend time with Dan. Their relationship was strained enough as it was, and the constant time apart was doing nothing to help. 

So he would suck it up and he would go. If only to appease Chris's worried state of mind, but also for his own personal reasons. 

He was the first one out of the door when the final bell rang. The halls were crowding with other teenagers quickly, all ready to leave in the end-of-the-day rush. Phil stuffed his books into his locker and grabbed his bag, closing the metal door and pushing through the sea of bodies until he finally got outside. 

The restaurant his dad worked at was s and usually not very busy on weekdays. It was a diner sort of place, with booths that lined the wall and a long counter that attached down the middle of the place, separating the kitchens from the main part. There were stools where you could sit at the counter and be waited on first hand. Phil normally say behind the counter, occasionally drifting out to help a customer or refill any drinks. It was boring and time consuming, but a lot better than some other jobs out there. And he didn't work regular hours, so it was easy money when he needed it. 

"You're late." His dad said from where he was dumping a batch of onion rings into the fryer. Phil sighed and grabbed an apron from the hook beside him, tying it around his waist and grabbing a tray that had two plates of food on it. 

"Only a few minutes." He replied. "Where are these going?"

"Table four."

Phil backed out of the kitchen doors and headed towards the back of the restaurant, smiling at the couple sitting there and depositing their plates before leaving once again. He had learned that his job was to bring food and then leave; most people didn't particularly like the waiter standing around and making conversation. 

There were a few more people in the kitchen when he walked back in, and he greeted them before going over to his father. "Hey, I was wondering if I could stay over at Chris's sometimes next week?" He asked, watching the cheese melt on a few burger patties that were on the stove. His dad glanced up at him. 

"You guys seem awfully close, yeah?" He said mildly. Phil shrugged. 

"I guess. We have known each other for a few years."

His dad paused, looking almost unsure. "I just... are you sure there's nothing you want to me and your mum about the two of you? He seems like a good kid, I wouldn't mind if-"

"Ew, dad, no." Phil shuddered. "We're not dating or anything. Seriously, just friends."

His dad raised his hands in surrender with a small smirk. "Sorry. Maybe I'm just reading it wrong." Phil nodded. "Either way... always use protection."

"You're the worst." Phil said with a laugh, turning and heading back out into the main part of the restaurant. He sat down behind the counter and pulled out a notebook, using his spare time to try and maybe conjure up some lyrics. Grayson was the song writer in the group, the guy had naturally talent, but Phil's wasn't bad either. It wasn't his main focus but he enjoyed it sometimes. 

He written a couple of lines when the door chimed, announcing the arrival of another customer. Phil didn't look up, waiting until they sat down to go and assist them. 

"And what does the waiter recommend?" A voice said in front of him. Phil looked up in surprise but smiled when he saw Dan staring at him expectantly. 

"Oh, I don't know." Phil said, playing along. "Everything's pretty good, but I'd go for the cheeseburger if I were you. Lots of cholesterol."

"Mm, my favourite." Dan hummed, making Phil shake his head. "Didn't know you had a job, Mr. Laid Back."

"Barely." Phil said, leaning forwards against the counter. It was instinct, wanting to be closer to Dan. "I'm kind of forced to be here by my parents. I can't always lay in bed and do nothing, so they say."

Dan made a face at him and rolled his eyes. "I'll have the cheeseburger, then. But split it in half so I can share it with my boyfriend."

Phil wrote down his order. "He must be a lucky a guy."

"Oh, you wouldn't believe." 

Ten minutes later, they were sitting across the counter from each other with a plate between them, eating and talking. 

"So you're having a party next week?" Phil asked after a moment, his mouth full of bread and cheese. 

"Yeah. How do you know about that?" Dan said curiously. "Peej has been going crazy about keeping it a secret."

"Chris has his ways." Phil pulled the lettuce out of his burger and set it on the plate. "He wants me to go and spy on you guys, make sure you're not trying to pull anything over on us."

Dan laughed. "Yeah, it's not for that. Just some weird ritual thing we do every year, for good luck or something. You're gonna be there?"

Phil nodded, taking another bite. "Yeah, but it's supposed to be a secret."

"My lips are sealed." Dan promised. "As long as we can sneak away roll around in the sheets."

Phil choked on a laugh, ignoring Dan's glare. "No one says 'roll around in the sheets' anymore."

"I do." Dan huffed. "Stop laughing."

Phil giggled one last time, catching his breath. He stuffed the last bite of burger into his mouth with a grin. "Have to get back to work." He said a bit reluctantly. Dan nodded and finished as well, standing up and pushing the now empty plate towards Phil. 

"See you next week, then?" He asked. Phil bit his lip, staring at his boyfriend longingly. He really wanted to just lean over and kiss him, but he was at work and there were too many people around. So he reached out and touched Dan's cheek gently, almost sighing as Dan leaned into it. 

"Next week." He promised. Dan smiled one last time before turning and leaving.


	4. Get Down On Your Knees And Tell Me You Love Me

Phil stared down at the pale blue dye that covered his hands, surprised and awed at how much it actually resembled the sky. You know, when it wasn't raining or covered by clouds. It seemed painfully aesthetic, the kind of shit you'd see on the Internet with some alternative song lyrics captioned beneath it. 

And now we're covered in the colours, pulled apart at the seams 

"You think I should dye my eyebrows, too?" Elliot asked from beside him, staring into the mirror contemplatively. His hair was still dripping wet, marking his shirt with spots. Phil looked up at him, closing his hands into loose fists. 

"No." He said vaguely. "You'd look stupid with blue eyebrows."

Elliot hummed in response, squinting his eyes at his reflection. 

It was an amazing feat that his hair hadn't fallen out at this point. Phil had seen him with pretty much every colour imaginable, even that month long bright orange phase that still made everyone physically sick to think about. Ellie claimed that people were much more attracted to unusual things on a person, and it helped him attract the attention he 'needed'. And who was Phil to judge? If he was being honest, it was the hair that had made him consider asking Elliot to join the band, after hearing him play first. 

And this wasn't the first time he'd helped his friend dye it. Whenever he was free, he would be more than happy to watch purple or red or blue stain his hands and most of the bathroom. 

Elliot huffed a sigh after a moment, grabbing a towel from the counter and ruffling his hair with it. He walked out of the bathroom door, and Phil washed his hands slowly before following him.

For the last few days, Phil had been trying to avoid Chris as much as possible. He was still irritated that he'd been persuaded (tricked) into going to that party at all, even though he wasn't mad about having to go. Chris was always getting into too much trouble, and he had such a bad habit of dragging others down with him. Phil just hoped the whole thing wouldn't fall apart, like usual. 

But with Dan being pretty much absent all the time with his own band issues, Phil didn't have many options of who to hang out with besides Grayson and Ellie. And Gray would do nothing but want to start a discussion about one thing or another, so it was either stay in the house by himself or Elliot. 

"So when is that party again?" Elliot asked with a smirk. Phil was already regretting telling him about the whole thing because all he did was tease about it. They all hated being pulled into Chris's plans. 

"Next week." Phil said, falling into a chair that sat beside the bed. "Would you stop bringing it up? It gives me stomach pains."

Elliot laughed at him. "I don't know where he comes up with this stuff, honestly. He's always so worried about them sabotaging us or something. He's paranoid."

Phil sighed. "Well I wish he'd get over it, he's gonna get into serious trouble one day."

"I just wanna know why he didn't ask me and Gray to do it." He wondered out loud, leaning back and crossing his arms behind his head.

"He thought you wouldn't want to do it." 

"Oh please," Ellie said. "I would do be down for that. Going to a secret party?"

"It's fine, really." Phil said, none too convincingly. He was mostly just acting bummed about it; he did want to go, with the promise of being alone with Dan for as long as he could. 

He missed him all the time, it was sort of desperately poetic. They never had much time together because of all the complications in their relationship, and he graciously thanked every higher deity when he could have ten minutes. They had grown used to the limited interactions over time, but that didn't mean they liked it at all. They were teenagers, after all, with hormones and needs that they couldn't find relief for except with each other. So this party was actually important to him, because it was probably the longest amount of time he'd ever had with his boyfriend  in the last few months. 

"Hey," Ellie said, making Phil pull out of his thoughts to pay attention to him, "did you hear that Tucker slept with one of the TCE members?"

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Who's Tucker?"

"Tucker Sellins."

"You mean Catholic boy Tucker Sellins?"

"The very one."

Phil shook his head, hesitant on believing that. Tucker was as prude as they came. You couldn't even say the word 'sex' without him glaring at you and most likely trying pray the sin away. There was no way he'd drop all of that to get his rocks off, and definitely not with any of TCE. 

"Who with?" Phil asked, honestly curious. He wasn't one of those people who constantly preyed on gossip, but sometimes he couldn't help himself. 

"They said one of the twins, but it'd have to be Tyler, you know Taylor is ace."

He knew a lot about the twins. Dating Dan had the benefit of being told everything about his band, and Phil probably knew more about their personal lives than he'd like to. 

Taylor and Tyler were famous. They were rich and good looking, played in a band with other good looking people, and they flaunted all of it. The powerful brother-sister duo was basically unstoppable when it came to, well... everything. They could do anything they wanted, and everyone loved them. 

And Tyler was well known because of his extensive bedroom skills. Phil had heard all kinds of stories about his seduction games, how he could pull anyone into bed with him, and apparently, he really could. A guy like Tucker wasn't easy to talk to at all, let alone sleep with. 

"Lost his virginity to a guy." Elliot smiled. "Think of how proud his mother will be."

Phil rolled his eyes but didn't say anything. 

His band members were not homophobic in the least, he knew that. Elliot was the only one who was completely straight of all of them, so they had no right to judge about who he slept with. But sometimes, when they said certain things like that, it made him uncomfortable. 

It had taken Phil a long time to come to terms with his sexuality, and even longer to start showing an outward interest in guys. He knew what he liked, he was entirely sure about himself, but it was difficult when everyone around was even more secure about what they liked. Sometimes he still felt like a confused 14 year old, scared to even look at other guys. 

But he shook it off, he always did, and didn't think about it too much. They joked about it all the time, he shouldn't be afraid that they would suddenly turn against him. They weren't like that. 

"I don't who's worse about gossip sometimes." Phil joked. "You or Chris?"

"Definitely me." Ellie said seriously, making Phil laugh. "There are so many things I know that probably nobody else knows. I'm a machine of secrets."

"Like what?"

"Well they wouldn't be secrets if I told you, now would they?"

Phil flipped him off. 

***

When the weekend finally came, Phil was more than ready to sleep in and not do anything for the two days of freedom that he had. His laptop was ready for extensive use and the kitchen was stocked for his late night raiding sessions. 

But it seemed that the universe hated him. For what, he didn't know; probably that time in primary school when he kicked his teacher for taking his unfinished drawings. Either way, here he was at seven in the morning on a Saturday, still in his pyjama pants, waiting for Chris to open the damn door. He gotten a text telling him to be there, and now the fuckface wasn't even answering the phone.

"I swear to god, Chris," he growled into the phone, "I have literally gotten two hours of sleep, I don't have fucking time for this shit. Open the fucking door."

"A bit too early for you to be using such naughty language, isn't it?" Phil turned to see Grayson walking up next to him on the porch, yawning and clutching his arms to his chest. His hair was a mess and he was wearing pyjamas, too. "I see our wonderful leader has summoned you as well? Guess that means Ellie will be here, too."

Phil grunted. "He is not our leader. He's barely in the band as it is."

"Isn't he the one that started it?"

"He helped start it." Phil said. "So that means me and him are co-leaders. And I have the right to kick him out of the band for being a little shit."

Grayson laughed half heartedly, leaning against the door and closing his eyes while Phil decided on texting Chris angrily. If this was as important as he'd made it seem, he was not going to leave them out here like this, the asshole. 

A few minutes later, Elliot showed up, and him and Gray were leaning against each other, practically falling asleep when Chris finally made an appearance. 

"Well you all look like shit." He said cheerily, but Phil grumbled and pushed past him into the house. "Good morning to you, too."

They marched up the stairs slowly, staving off yawns and words of contempt towards Chris (not so much on Phil's part) until they were all in Chris's room. Chris say at the desk that was pushed into the far corner. 

"Come, gather around me, children." He said, waving at them until they were all grouped together. Chris turned to his computer and scrolled through his email, humming happily when he found what he was looking for. "There you go."

Phil huffed but leaned closer to the screen with Gray and Elliot, scanning the words quickly. 

Dear Mr. Kendall,

We have received your numerous attempts of communication with us, and would first like to say that we admire your ambition, no matter how time consuming it might have been. 

This email is to inform you that we have, coincidentally, had a recent opening in our schedule for next Wednesday at 11pm, and it is your for the taking, if you would like it. Please be aware that the Blue Room does require IDs for alcoholic consumption, and that we do not take kindly to fakes. 

Thank you, and we wish you well,

The managers of the Blue Room

There was a moment of quiet, as they fully comprehended what they were reading. Phil had to read it three times to be sure it was real. 

"No fucking way." Gray said breathlessly. "You did not get us booked to play at the fucking Blue Room."

"I sure did." Chris said proudly, smiling widely. He stared at Phil pointedly. "Is this important enough for your Saturday to be interrupted?"

Phil laughed and shook his head. "Okay, fine, all is forgiven."

He felt much more awake now, buzzing inside as he turned to his band mates excitedly. 

The Blue Room was one of the most popular and sought out clubs on this side of town. They were known for having the best music groups play on their stage, but it was extremely difficult booking a gig there. Dan had told him that TCE had been trying to play there for almost a year, and that no amount of money or fame could get you in unless the managers there felt like you were good. This was a fucking breakthrough for them, big enough for them to probably get noticed by more than just a few classmates. 

"It said 11pm?" Elliot questioned suddenly, squinting at the computer screen. "On a Wednesday night? You really think that's gonna go down with all of the eight parents always on our asses?"

Chris shrugged. "I was just thinking we could sneak out."

The other three boys groaned at those words. As important as this opportunity was for all of them, they really didn't know if it was worth possibly getting caught by their parents and being put on parole for the rest of their lives. Chris was still grounded right now, and Phil had enough to deal with, with the party that was also happening next week, also at a late time. 

"Oh come on." Chris goaded. "Are we really going to give up a spot at the Blue Room because we might get in trouble? This could be it, guys. I don't know about you, but a few months of punishment seems pretty worth it if we get famous."

"The thing is, Chris," Gray said seriously, "we can't exactly 'be famous' if we're all in trouble, can we? Unless you think we could still do shows from the confines of our rooms?"

"Well then we won't get caught." Chris said, as if it was the simplest thing in the world. "It'll only be a few hours, we'll be back before two."

"I don't know." Phil said, pursing his lips. The initial excitement was gone now, replaced with worry and hesitation. "My mums already on my back about my grades. If she did find out about this, she'd eviscerate me."

Chris sighed, rubbing his face tiredly. "I have to respond to them. They still have an open spot, and it could be taken if we aren't fast about it."

It was silent once again, and not in a very good way. They were deciding whether it was really worth it. This was a serious deal; if they played there, they had a chance at actually becoming well known. This was a once in a lifetime chance, and if they blew it it would never happen again. 

But Phil was still wary. His parents were not lenient when it came to reprimanding him, especially his mum. Even if they pulled this off, if they ever caught wind of it, he'd be done in for sure. And he didn't know if he was willing to let that happen. 

"I'm in." Gray said, making them all look at him. He shrugged. "This may be the only chance we have. And wait till everyone hears we played at the Blue Room."

Another pause. "Me too." Elliot said with a small smile. 

And then they were all looking at Phil. He shied away from their stares, not wanting to be the bad guy. "I'll have to think about it." He muttered. 

Thankfully, there was little argument about his decision, and they eventually agreed to give him some time. He promised he'd have an answer by Monday, and he was really hoping he would. Chris replied to the email, saying there were a couple of complications and they would have a definite answer by next week. They all silently prayed the spot wouldn't be given up by then.  

"Well," Gray said after they had everything settled, climbing into Chris's bed and stretching out languidly, "I'm going back to bed. See you all in the afternoon."

Chris crawled in next to him, pulling the blankets over his head and promptly falling asleep. Phil and Elliot decided to take their chances in the living room, grabbing a few blankets from the hall closet and making themselves comfortable on one of the couches. 

Phil was just drifting off again, more than ready to jump back into his dream world, when Elliot spoke up. 

"Phil?"

"Hm?" Phil grumbled, burying his face into the cushions. He was far too warm to even think about moving. 

"Do you ever think about it?" Ellie continued. "Actually making it? Becoming famous and stuff?"

Phil thought about it. It was a dream of his; one day making a living out of playing music with his friends. That was the whole point of starting the band in the first place, with the intent of becoming famous. 

"Course I have." He said. "It's gonna be awesome."

"Yeah." Elliot said wistfully. "I'll be, like, the Josh Dun of the music industry."

Phil laughed at that, barely coherent at this point. "You keep thinking that, mate. No one compares to that legend."

"You never know."


	5. Don't Stop (Color On The Walls)

"Seriously? The Blue Room?" Dan asked slowly, turning over onto his back and staring up at the ceiling of Phil's room.

"Mmhmm." Phil hummed, nuzzling against Dan's shoulder lightly. Dan laughed and glanced over at him, raising an eyebrow. 

"And you're seriously thinking about not doing it?"

Phil sighed and shrugged. "I just don't know if it's worth the risk." He said, and Dan gave him a disbelieving look. 

"You've done worse for a lot less."

"I mean, it's fucking awesome, and I know that a chance like that is very hard to come by." Phil explained solemnly. "But I have enough to deal with as it is, you know? Between the band and school, and my parents getting on to me about both...if I did get caught, it would just be even more stress to deal with." He bit his lip. "And if I got in trouble, we wouldn't see each other as much. That's a big issue."

"You just want the sex." Dan laughed, shoving Phil's shoulder lightly. 

"And the cuddles." Phil complained, reaching an arm out and pulling Dan into his grasp. 

Dan smiled warmly at him, moving in closer and burying his face into Phil's neck. "It's perfectly fine, really, I can't tell you what to do." He mumbled. "You have your reasons and they should be respected. But I wouldn't want you to miss out on possibly the biggest moment of your life so far."

And that was the whole reason for the controversy Phil had been battling with in his mind for the last two days. 

If this had happened a couple weeks ago, Phil wouldn't hesitate at the idea of sneaking out and playing. He'd done it before, that much was for sure. And this gig was the most important thing that could happen to his band in the three years they'd been performing semi-professionally. It meant they were good, good enough to play their music at one of the most popular places in the city. Maybe even good enough to get noticed by the right kind of people, to make it big, get famous, get payed for doing the thing they loved. The chance of it greatly outweighed the consequences. 

But he was seventeen years old. A teenager, still in school and still technically under his parents guardianship; they ultimately decided whether he got that chance, until he was old enough to make that decision himself. And that wasn't for another eight months. Right now, he wasn't exactly in the position to be breaking any rules, because they could shut him down completely. That was his biggest worry. 

"Don't overthink it, babe." Dan said, and Phil snapped out of his gloomy thoughts to look at him. Dan leaned up and kissing him slowly. "Do what you think is best."

"When did you become such a good influence on me?" Phil joked, ignoring Dan's eye roll.

He'd been debating the whole issue ever since he'd found out about it yesterday, and he was still stuck in the middle about it. Weighing the pros and cons was exhausting, and honestly, he didn't have the patience or willpower to keep doing it for much longer. He only had until tomorrow to make his choice, and as it was, he was still undecided. 

He'd invited Dan over earlier for some outside advice, and for a distraction from it all, because he definitely wasn't faring well by himself. 

"I just..." Phil said, trailing off in a reluctant tone. "I just don't want them let them down. You know? This isn't just my big moment, it's all of ours. And me saying no is basically me stomping all over their dreams."

He'd seen the way they'd all looked. Even Chris was excited about the prospect of it, and he was usually the spoilsport in the group. Phil didn't want to be a disappointment to them. 

"What if," Dan said suddenly, "you just told your parents you were spending the night at Chris's? Isn't that what you were gonna say to go to the party on Friday anyway?" 

Phil thinks about it and nods carefully. It was his go-to excuse for stuff like this (especially when he wanted to hang out with Dan) but he tried not to use it too much, lest his parents got suspicious. And he damn well knew that his friend would support the idea, anything to get Phil to agree to play. 

"So just tell them you're going on Wednesday instead of Friday, and go play your heart out." Dan continued. 

"You think it would really work?" Phil questioned. 

"Hasn't it before?"

Well he couldn't argue with that. "You're so fucking smart." He said softly, kissing him chastely. Dan hummed against his lips, pulling him back in for a deeper kiss, reaching up and carding his fingers through Phil's hair. 

"Surprised you didn't think of it first." Dan muttered. Honestly, so was Phil; it was a pretty obvious solution, and one that hadn't failed him so far in his life. 

"Guess I just needed my beautiful boyfriend to help guide me."

"Shut up and kiss me." 

Phil happily complied, pressing their lips together firmly, his hands grasping Dan's lower back and pulling him even closer. 

He was so glad his dad had taken an extra shift at the restaurant today; the house was empty, the way it hadn't been in nearly two months, and Phil was gloriously free to do whatever the hell he wanted until his parents came back. 

So, they had a few hours. 

"Take these off." Dan mumbled against his lips, tugging impatiently at Phil's jeans waistband, getting irritated when they didn't immediately disappear. Phil laughed once and rolled into his back, undoing the button and quickly shoving the denim down his legs, shaking them off onto the floor. 

As soon as they were gone, Dan climbed up over him, straddling his waist. He pressed his lips against Phil's neck, agonizingly slow, making small noises in the back of his throat as Phil ran his hands over Dan's bare thighs. When Dan had first come over, almost as soon as the door had opened, his clothes were pretty much nonexistent. And Phil was left with the magnificent pleasure of watching him stroll around the house in just his tight boxers. Not for long, though, no way Phil was keeping his hands to himself around that. 

"Stop teasing." Phil groaned. Dan was keeping up his torturous pace, dragging his lips down Phil's neck to his collarbone. Phil gasped when Dan nipped at his skin sharply. 

Being alone with Dan, like this, with only the blankets offering any kind of solitude, was truly intoxicating. 

Almost a year ago, when they were testing the waters and just getting to know each other better, they had been scared of doing anything that was close to intimate. Phil had been terrified that his band members would find out and possibly cold shoulder him, and so had Dan. And Phil was still figuring out if this was what he actually wanted, a possibly long term relationship with a guy; he admittedly had had no experience in that kind of situation and the doubt in his mind was always lurking. The first month and a half was just kissing and hand holding whenever they could, and even then, it was still awkward. 

But he'd heard things. Being such close friends with Chris and Grayson had been his limited knowledge source of sexual interactions between two guys; they were braggers, constantly talking about their 'many conquests and adventures with that of the male gender', and Phil tried to store as much of that information as he could. Of course, it wasn't exactly a reliable source. People were different, and they liked different things, and even to this day he was still finding out new things about Dan and how he reacted to certain things. 

But he could proudly admit he knew how to make Dan feel good now. 

Dan moaned lowly against the skin of Phil's chest as Phil lifted his hips, grinding into him slowly. It wasn't enough, not nearly enough what that both needed right now, but it made Dan stop his leisurely exploring, sliding the tip of his tongue down Phil's stomach and to the top of his underwear. He glanced up, staring at Phil through his eyelashes wickedly and taking the fabric in between his teeth, and fuck, Phil almost stopped breathing. He could be so fucking sexy when he wanted to.

"Do you want this?" Dan asked huskily, breathing hotly across Phil's erection, making him shiver. He can barely speak as it is. 

"Are you seriously asking me that right now?" Phil responded shakily. Dan has his hips pinned to the bed so he can't move them and he's starting to ache, he wants to stop fooling around. But Dan is a born actor, it seems, because he never lets up that easy, no matter how much Phil can see that he wants this just as bad. 

He doesn't make any move to go further, mouthing against Phil's boxers eagerly and making obscene little noises, his hands sliding down to Phil's thigh so he can spread them. Phil whines insistently, making it known that he wants more, so much more, but he knows the only way that will happen is if he says something.  

"Fuck, please Dan, I want you." He gives in, moaning long and loud when Dan bites his inner thigh gently. 

"How badly?"

"So fucking bad, babe, I can't-" he chokes off when Dan reached beneath the waistband of his underwear, touching him where he wants but not enough to be satisfying. "I want your mouth."

Dan gives him a smirk, kissing his hip gently, and his fingers are tugging the top of his boxers down, his mouth following just behind, and-

-his phone rings. 

They both groan in protest, Dan taking his hands back to himself and glaring at the device on the bedside table. Phil curses ever unforgiving deity above that apparently lives to separate him from his boyfriend. He grabs the phone and answers it without checking to see who it is, because they can't possibly be more important than what they just interrupted. 

"Hello?"

"Are you busy right now?" He doesn't think he's ever hated Chris more in his life than he does in this moment. 

"Um," Phil said, watching Dan press his face against his stomach in frustration. "A little bit, yeah. Why?"

"I'm, like, about to walk through your front door."

Oh shit. 

Phil sits up quickly, ignoring the not-so-nice face that Dan pulls at him, almost falling out the bed and hurrying to find his jeans wherever he decided to throw them. "What? No! Sorry, no, I-I can't hang out or anything. Right now." He gestures towards Dan to let him know that he needs to get dressed as fast as possible, and frantically tries to remember if the front door is locked. 

"You just said you're only a little busy." Chris argued, ever the stubborn asshole. "What, are you doing homework? Seriously, it's Sunday; isn't that like, a relaxation day?"

"I just...I'm not feeling too well." Phil said. How the hell is he going to get Dan out of here. There is no way he's going to be able to defer Chris from barging into his house and demanding they spend time together or whatever, and there's no way in hell he's letting him and Dan get caught. 

'Window?', Dan mouths, buttoning his jeans, but Phil shakes his head. The window leads right out front and he will definitely be seen. He glances around the room quickly, and his eyes stop on...the closet. 

"I get the distinct feeling you just don't want to have my company." Chris said. 

"Maybe." Phil said. "Look Chris, seriously, I just can't do-"

"Oh look, the front door is unlocked."

Chris hands up abruptly on him, and Phil panics as he hears that, yes, the front door is unlocked and that must be Chris who's just opened it. He throws his phone on the bed, grabbing Dan's shirt from the floor and shoving it to his chest, pushing him towards the closet. But as soon as Dan sees where he's being led, he stops. 

"You're fucking kidding me." He says angrily. "I am not hiding in your closet, Phil."

"We really don't have time for this, Dan." Phil said quickly. He can hear footsteps coming up the stairs and they have maybe ten seconds to figure it out. "I'm sorry, okay, but this is literally the only option unless you want to get caught."

Dan glares at him for a moment, and Phil feels so damn guilty about this whole thing, but he doesn't have the time for it. He nudges Dan again, and closes the door as fast and quiet as possible, just as there's a knock at his room door. 

"Open up, Phil, I can hear you breathing."

Phil rolls his eyes, opening the door and giving his friend a withering look. "Stop being so annoying, holy fuck." 

Chris raises an eyebrow at him, and it takes Phil a second to realize why. 

He's still hard, he can feel it pressing against the front of his jeans, but he finds he's too irritated to care much. He doesn't have a shirt on and his chest is flushed red. And his hair must be a mess, from writhing around so much and from Dan's fingers. Chris whistles and laughs. 

"Guess you were in the middle of something." He said, obviously thinking that Phil is by himself in here. "Should have just told me, I wouldn't have bothered."

"Yeah, whatever." He steps away from the door and let's Chris in, glancing at the closet nervously and trying not to seem too suspicious. "Did you need something?"

"Not particularly, no." Chris answers. The bed is a mess too, and Chris decided to sit at his desk. "I was just bored, and no one else is available. Figured you probably weren't up to much."

He always figures that; more than once has Phil had to clean up any incriminating evidence from his room because Chris decides it's time for an impromptu visit. It's annoying and exhausting, much like the guy himself. 

"I can leave if you really want me to." Chris suggests, pointedly not looking anywhere below Phil's waist. "I mean you obviously need your, um...privacy."

"I don't think I have much of that anymore." Phil mutters. 

"I'll go." Chris says, standing up with an awkward cough and walking towards the door. Phil can barely believe that he's leaving so easily, without much fight or stubbornness. If he has to pretend like he's jacking off all the time to get Chris off his back, he's willing to take that risk. 

"Wait." Phil says suddenly, and Chris turns back to look at him. "About the, uh, the Blue Room gig. I wanted to tell you, I'm in."

The smile that takes over Chris's face is real and bright. "Seriously?" Phil nods. "Oh fuck. Okay, awesome."

"Yeah, I just thought. I could tell my parents I'm staying over at your place. I mean, I'm going over there before the party on Friday anyway, yeah?"

"Why the hell didn't we think of that before?" Chris mutters to himself. "Alright I'll email them right now. You, uh, you enjoy yourself now."

Phil scoffs and slams the door in Chris's face, leaning against it heavily. That was way too fucking close for his liking. The front door opens and closes once again from downstairs and he feels like he can breathe easy now. 

Of course, then the closet door opens and a very angry Dan marches out of it, hastily pulling his shirt over his head and reaching for his shoes. Phil sighs. 

"You're leaving?" He asks hopefully, wanting to use the rest of his allotted time alone with Dan as much as possible. 

"Yeah." Dan says calmly, although Phil can clearly see he's anything but. "I'm just not in the mood anymore, I guess."

"I'm sorry, Dan, honestly." Phil apologizes, touching Dan's shoulder gently, but he pulls away. "I didn't know he was gonna just show up like that."

"Doesn't it ever bother you?" Dan faces him now, his eyebrows drawn together. "Does it ever get to you, that we're in a relationship. I'm your boyfriend, but every time we meet, it's in secret. Nobody knows about us, at all, not even our parents." Dan shrugs helplessly. "And now, I'm being reduced to hide in closets so I won't be seen by your friends." He says this all in an even voice, just barely covering up his anger. 

"I can't help that-"

"But you can!" Dan exclaims. "You're your own person, Phil. You shouldn't let three other teenage guys decide you can't publicly date me."

"It's not just that, Dan."

"Then what is it? My band? I couldn't care less about what they think about us. Because I want to be with you." Dan says resignedly. "And sometimes I just don't think you feel the same way."

"That's not true." Phil argues, but Dan just shakes his head. "Dan-"

"It's fine, Phil." He mumbles. Leans up and kisses him once, quickly. "I'll see you at school tomorrow. Good luck on Wednesday."

And then he leaves, closing the door gently behind him, which is almost as worse as if he would have slammed it. 

Because he's not angry. Not at Phil, at least, he knows that. Phil knows he just doesn't like their relationship being kept in confines. Hell, Phil doesn't like it either. But he's been in the idea for so long, that everyone in TCE is an enemy and they cannot interact in any way, that keeping Dan a secret has just become second nature to him. He's a dick, and a sucky boyfriend, and now he doesn't feel like he's not good enough for Dan. Dan deserves so much better than rushed make out sessions in the dark and discreet eye contact across the room. He deserves someone who will be with him not matter what, and do whatever it takes to keep him. 

But Phil is also selfish, and he doesn't want to let go of Dan.


	6. Do It Now Remember It Later

Wednesday arrived much more quickly than Phil was prepared for, and he found that he was (not for the first time in the last two days) having second thoughts. He'd been up all night, going through every possible scenario in his mind about things that could go wrong, each one so much worse than the last. He wasn't surprised when he looked in the mirror that morning and saw he looked paler than usual from lack of sleep. 

But the nervous twist in his stomach and the fact that he was physically exhausted didn't deter the millions of excited nerves running through him. Tonight, they were playing the Blue Room. 

They had a messy plan put together, that consisted of climbing out of windows or pretending they were at each other's houses, guesstimating when Chris's parents would be asleep, or at least far gone enough so that they wouldn't hear the four of them leaving. Chris had just gotten his car keys back, but he was willing to possibly get them taken away again just for this. He was definitely the most ambitious person Phil had ever met. 

They'd played other gigs before, at parties and dive bars on the shady part of town. Last year, they had even been allowed to do a few songs for a dance at school, but had almost immediately been kicked offstage once Chris started yelling profanities at the crowd. But this was so different in so many ways, and Phil honestly still couldn't wrap his mind around the idea. 

Of course, in the back of his mind, just behind all of that excitement and anxiousness, was confusion and worry about Dan.  

The last Phil had seen of him was Sunday, after their semi-argument about hiding the fact that they were dating. He hadn't come to school on Monday, and Phil had caught only a glimpse of him once in the hallways yesterday before he had to go to class. 

Were they taking a break? Phil was still so consumed with guilt at what had happened, and he couldn't even begin to think of a way to try and fix it. Apologizing just didn't seem good enough, not for this situation. But what else was he supposed to do; he had grown so used to having Dan whenever he wanted over the last year, and now that he was being deprived, he was starting to realize that he'd taken way too much advantage of him. Dan was there every single time, when Phil was sad or angry at his band mates or just horny, and Phil didn't feel like he gave enough in return. And forcing Dan to hide away from Phil's friends and family was just the final blow, it seemed, because Dan wouldn't even answer his texts. All because he was scared of people's reactions. 

So all in all, Phil was just a mess of emotions that he didn't know how to handle all together at once. 

His parents had already agreed to letting him stay over at Chris's house for the rest of the week, with him claiming it was for 'band emergency purposes'. They had never liked getting involved with anything that had to do with his music, so he was pretty much all ready to go, after swearing on his life they weren't going to any outrageous parties. He wondered when it had become so easy to lie to his parents. 

"And you're sure you have everything?" Chris asked from the passenger seat of the car, typing God knows what into his phone. Phil refrained from growling in frustration; this was at least the seventh time he'd been asked that since they'd left. 

"I'm one hundred percent sure that I have everything I need, could you please stop fussing so much. You sound like my mum."

"I just want to be sure we're completely ready for this." Chris said heartily, locking the phone and staring out the window, drumming his fingers against his thigh. "I don't wanna show up and look stupid because we forgot about something, no matter how small."

Understandable, but that didn't make it any less annoying. 

When they had first met, Phil had spent a lot of time over at Chris's house. His parent were strict, but a bit more lenient when it came to giving their son privacy. It was a welcome relief to the usually suffocating hovering at his own home. And even now, he was glad about getting to spend a few days here, even if it did include sticking his neck out, going to bars and parties, with alcohol and people that weren't exactly civil. 

They had a while before they would need to start getting ready to put their plan in action. The house was empty when they entered, with both parents still at work for the day, so Phil dropped his things into Chris's room and they proceeded to raid the kitchen.

"You're gonna be designated driver tonight, right?" Chris asked, cramming a forkful of cold Chinese noodles into his mouth at the same time. Phil raised an eyebrow but didn't comment on his nonexistent etiquette. 

"Why?" He asked suspiciously. "I didn't know you guys were drinking tonight?" Chris swallowed his mouthful. 

"Dude, we're playing at a club." His friend said, and then took another bite. "I'm'na ge' pissed." 

Phil sighed solemnly. "And how do expect to do that? Being in high school still, and such?"

He instantly regretted asking that, because Chris smirked at him and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wallet. He dug through it for a moment before shoving a card into Phil's face triumphantly. It took a moment before he realized what it was. 

"You know you could get into serious trouble for that?" He asked, grabbing the fake I.D. and inspecting it carefully. He had to admit, it did look pretty authentic. 

"Nah." Chris shrugged. "They always go easy on us kids."

Phil threw the card onto the counter between them and gave Chris a curious look. "Why do you do stuff like this?" He asked seriously. 

"What do you mean?"

"Why do you always put yourself at risk like this?" He honestly wondered if Chris had a reason for being so reckless. "Sneaking out all the time, getting a fake I.D. so you can get blackout drunk. I mean, is there a point for any of it?"

It was quiet for a moment, with Chris not looking at him directly, focusing on the countertop instead. He seemed a bit deflated, like he was actually thinking about all the stuff he did and maybe doubting it. Phil felt sort of bad for bringing it up, it looked like a sore topic. 

"Not really, I guess." Chris answered eventually. "Just....why not?"

And Phil didn't have time to wonder what the hell that meant, because then there was a knock at the door, and Chris went to go answer it. 

"What's up, sluts?" Elliot exclaimed as he walked through the door, throwing his bag on the couch and sitting next to it heavily. They were going to pick up Grayson later on, since his mum hadn't let him spend the night. "Where is the remote?"

Chris sat next to him, and Phil guessed it was his way of saying that their earlier conversation was now over. Not that it had really started in the first place. 

The hours passed with a defined cruelty. 

No matter how much he tried to calm down, and no matter how many annoyed glanced from Chris and worried ones from Ellie, he was still a nervous wreck. He wasn't as used to breaking rules as the rest of them were. He done some crazy and questionable things in his life, especially after he met Chris, but this just seemed a lot more surreal. It definitely wasn't the worst thing he'd ever attempted, but he just couldn't shake the foreboding. 

When Chris's mum came home at around nine, bearing three large pizzas, he only managed to give her a weak hello; he was about to break the unspoken trust given to him while staying there, he couldn't very well smile in her face about it. 

"You look like you're gonna vomit." Elliot said to him quietly later on, pulling on a pair of skin tight pants that were the same shade of red that an apple might be. It was officially time to actually start getting ready to leave. Chris was standing in front of the mirror in his underwear, with about twenty pairs of pants scattered around him, trying to decide which ones looked best on him. 

"I'm fine." Phil assured him. He was ready to go, waiting for the other two to hurry up so they could leave already. He'd rather get this over with as quickly as possible. "Just, pre-show jitters or something."

"You don't have to play tonight, you know."

"I kind of do." Phil said with a laugh. "I've already agreed. The spot is already booked, how pathetic do you think it'd be if I backed out right now? We'd probably be blacklisted."

Elliot reluctantly agreed with that. He reached down to pull his shoes on and Phil watched disinterestedly. He could see the dark roots of his friend's otherwise bright hair. 

"You guys ready?" Chris asked. He'd decided on a pair of black jeans that looked just like every other pair he owned. "Let's go."

It took only a minute for them to successfully reach the front door as quietly as possible, but it seemed like years of navigation through the darkness, and Phil began breathing normally again only when they were outside. The car was parked a little ways down the street, so they wouldn't be caught when the engine started.

As he climbed into the backseat, almost tripping over his own feet as he ducked into the car, he tried his hardest to clear all the negative thoughts from his head. 

Because this was a good idea. 

Right?

***

"Oh, fuck me."

Grayson was peeking out from behind the heavy curtains, eyeing the crowded room uneasily and muttering cursed every few minutes. Honestly, it was doing nothing to calm the rest of them down. 

"That's a lot of people," he said with obvious nausea in his voice. "This is literally the biggest crowd we've ever played for, guys. I'm gonna throw up."

"Would you shut up, Gray?" Chris snapped, pacing the floor and staring up at the ceiling at the same time. Phil leaned against the wall next to him, hiding his shaking hands behind his back. "It'll be fine, I'm sure of it."

"I don't know," Ellie said. He seemed to be the most calm of all of them, casually sitting on the floor and staring at his phone screen, but Phil could see the tense set of his shoulders. "What if he actually does vomit? You think that would ruin the show?"

"Don't talk about it, you'll make it worse," Grayson moaned, turning away from the curtain.

"Just stop freaking out, everybody," Chris said. He took a deep breath, and they could all tell he was getting into 'pep-talk mode'. "We're going to go out there, and fucking play our hearts out, okay? Don't worry about messing up, just pretend we're at any usual practice and do your best."

"And what if that's not good enough?" Phil asked quietly. Ellie and Gray nodded in solemn agreement; they were all thinking it. What if they weren't as good as they thought they were? What is they messed up so horribly, and ruined any chance they had at achieving fame, being noticed? 

"Then we go home and laugh about it, and curse these bastards for being too narrow minded to see how awesome we are," Chris reared on. He was a lot less anxious than before, and actually managed to smirk a little "And we can still just tell everyone we played here. Bend the truth a tiny bit."

"We have three minutes," Grayson announced, twisting the microphone in his hands nervously. 

Phil grabbed his bass from the where it was leaning next to him, tossing the strap around his neck. Chris did the same with his guitar, and Elliot hopped up from the floor, tossing his sticks into the air habitually. 

He could feel his heart beating rapidly in his chest, and thought it was a lot faster than normal. He had to focus, had to keep it together, or else he's mess them all up. 

"We'll be fine," Chris muttered, more to himself than to the rest of them, and then they were being called out onto the stage, and Phil almost tripped again over his shoes. Why was he feeling so much more clumsy right now? 

It was bright and it was loud, but Phil kept his eyes on his shoes as he walked across the seemingly endless stage, towards the amps where he was supposed to be standing. Chris had already plugged in, and was staring at Phil, waiting for him to do the same. 

"Hey everybody, we're Heinous," Gray said, barely heard over the screams of the crowd. So far, so good, it seemed. "And we're here to fuck shit up."

The crowd noise grew to an even louder crescendo at that, and Phil almost smiled. At least these people were a bit more accepting of their style.

The song started with Phil and Chris strumming a steady rhythm together, eight beats and then Elliot jumped in alongside him with a crash of the bass drum. It was even and sort of tame at first, as Gray crooned the first verse. 

'Out  
I want out  
Get me out...'

Phil's stomach was rolling still, but he could feel the deep beats of his bass pulsing through his hands, and it settled him the smallest amount. They had practiced this song so many times, to the point of memorizing each other's parts, and he easily closed his eyes and continued playing. 

'Get me out of this circle of  
Despair  
Get me out,   
I want out.'

Shit, shit, oh shit, Phil thought in anxious anticipation. His fingers worked over the strings quickly, matching his band mates perfectly as the tempo swung up. It was energetic, playing so loud an uninhibited, hearing the roar of hundreds of people screaming their approval as they played, and his adrenaline levels were at maximum. He felt almost drunk, and in such a good way. 

'And suddenly the world seems  
Very small.   
There's nowhere to hide  
There's nowhere to run  
Nowhere to escape the truth that   
I've been denying so long'

Exhilarating and intoxicating and every other fucking poetic word you could possibly think of, Phil was feeling it. He was already sweating, feeling his hair stuck to his face and his shirt sleeves to his arms. He wanted it to last forever. 

And they played on and on, encouraged by the crowd and the music itself. This was their element, they were at their most comfortable behind their instruments and with each other. 

The beat got more erratic as they progressed, spinning together wildly into the most catastrophic symphony of emotion and sound, and it was beautiful. 

'Because there's a storm building on the horizon.'

He swore Elliot would have broken the crash cymbal if he played any harder. 

'And I don't wanna be here when it hits.'

Phil ceased his playing as the tempo slowed once again, and listening to Chris and Ellie and Gray, their sound twisting together so effortlessly 

'Because I've been here before.   
And this time  
I don't want to be the one left crying  
As you walk away.'

Phil could hear his harsh breathing in his ears as the song ended abruptly, and the pounding of the crowd as they absolutely bellowed. And he realized he was smiling so hard his cheeks were beginning to ache. He felt awesome. Powerful and on top, like he could do anything, anything he wanted.

"Oh my fucking god!" Elliot shouted from behind him. He was beaming despite the sheen of sweat that covered his face. "I think I just popped a boner."

Phil laughed in exuberance. "Well don't come in your pants, schoolboy, we still have a few more songs!"

***

Forty-five minutes later found them all sitting around a slightly small diner table, still laughing and eagerly recounting the events at the club while sharing a huge plate of chips that sat in the middle of them. 

Despite his promises, Chris hadn't touched any sort of alcohol, and Phil wondered if he'd been persuaded by their, not so much an encounter as a flimsy discussion, from earlier. Either way, he was just glad they were all in their right minds. 

"I'm pretty sure I'll be partly deaf for the next week," Elliot half yelled, making them all laugh even harder. It was just a general air of giddiness surrounding them, and everything was funny and entertaining. 

"Seriously, guys," Chris spoke up, and they turned to listen to him. He smiled at them grandly. "This was possibly the best thing we've ever done together."

Phil couldn't help but agree with that. He was still buzzing from the aftermath, recalling the group of girls (and even a couple guys) who'd practically fainted when he touched their hands over the edge of the stage. 

"Very much agreed," Grayson said with a grin. "And I'm damn hopeful we'll get another chance like that."

The one waitress on duty kept shooting them weird glances, obviously questioning why four teenage boys were crowding her diner at midnight, but obviously not caring, if they were paying. 

"Glad you didn't wuss out on us, Lester," Chris said, making Phil roll his eyes. 

"Yeah, cause then you wouldn't have been able to flash your unrelenting beauty at any onlookers, right?"

"Fuck off."

"Seriously, how many phone numbers did you get?" Phil goaded, enjoying the faux irritation his friend was giving him and the small sense of pride and freedom he was currently experiencing. 

"That's entirely not your business." Chris said haughtily. 

"Bet it's in the low thirties," Grayson muttered, ignoring the scalding glare Chris gave him. 

Phil suddenly felt his pocket vibrating, and almost had a heart attack, thinking it might be his mum calling to tell him he was grounded for life or something. But he pulled out his phone and sighed with relief at the caller I.D. 

Lover. 

"I, uh. I have to take this," he said lowly, slipping barely noticed from the table and stepping outside into the chilly air. 

He was very hesitant in taking the call; what did Dan want to say to him? Were they officially over, or...or was he calling to yell some more? Neither was s good outcome. 

The phone rang again, and Phil sighed in resignation before accepting it. 

"Hey," he said cautiously. He heard Dan breathing quietly on the other end, and felt almost comforted by it. Sometimes, they would talk all night, and Dan would fall asleep right there on the phone, and Phil tried not to think it was creepy that he would listen to him a few seconds more before hanging up. 

"Hi," Dan replied evenly, and God, Phil would never admit out loud that he'd missed just hearing him speak. "I, um. I guess you guys are done with the show?"

"Yep. Just out, celebrating or something, I guess."

"How was it?"

"It was so great, Dan," Phil breathed, letting the smile take over his face. "I-I don't even know how to describe it, just...amazing and I want to do it again. I wish..." He trailed off. "I wish I could show you how it felt."

There was a heavy silence, and Phil even ha the split second thought that Dan had hung up on him, but then there was an airless laugh, and Dan hummed thoughtfully. 

"I bet you were great. You always are."

"I'm sorry, Dan," Phil said suddenly and quickly. He leaned his head against the brick wall in front him, turning his head and watching his friends joking around inside through the glass. "Last Sunday, when we had that argument...I feel horrible and guilty about this whole thing. Keeping us a secret, not spending time with each other because of it. I know you hate it, I hate it too. I just really don't know..." He swallowed. "I don't know how to do it differently."

He waits in bated silence for Dan to reply, feeling his heart pounding almost as much as an hour ago when he was playing. It's uncomfortable. 

"I don't like arguing with you," Dan says softly, Phil having to press the phone closer to his ear to hear him properly. "I understand, why it's important for both of us to keep quiet about it."

"We don't have to, Dan," Phil rushed out, ignoring the doubt in his mind about what could all go wrong by it. "I'll tell them if you want, we won't have to hide anymore."

"I think it's better if we do, Phil," Dan explains. "It's how we work together. I think that...changing so suddenly would put everything off." Phil doesn't miss the empty hope in his tone, even through the phone. 

"I don't want to make you feel bad about us," Phil said gently. "Like you think I'm ashamed of us or something-"

"I don't think that," Dan interrupts. "Honestly. I know how much you care about us, and care about me. You don't have to drive yourself into a situation you're not okay with just for my sake."

"I really like you, Dan."

Dan laughs at that, and Phil can also hear the fatigue in it. He must have stayed to just to call him. "I really like you too, Phil."

And though the phone call is short and not that sweet, when Phil goes back and joins his friends in the empty diner, he feels a hundred times lighter. And that's what really matters.


	7. Harlem

Chris wasn't speaking to him.

Whether it was his usual pissed off attitude at pretty much anyone he made contact with, or because of the particular uneasiness that surrounded the two them after Wednesday, Phil just wanted it to be over. He hated arguing with anyone at all in the first place, and there was enough tension between them to begin with, they could seriously do without ignoring each other completely. Or, rather, Chris ignoring him and Phil not doing anything to attempt to change it. He had tried talking to him, but it was mostly met with unreadable expressions and monosyllabic responses, and the fact that he was going to be staying at his house for the next three days didn't exactly help. 

Here he was, just getting out of an argument with Dan, and now him and his best friend weren't speaking to each other. His life had never been so dramatic before. 

And he tried his hardest to cope with it, and not let it affect his life in any major way, but he was too damn empathetic for that. It got in the way of their practices, which had started getting more frequent and grueling than before, and he could barely survive the school day. Who else was he supposed to talk to? Elliot and Grayson were closer to each other than either Phil or Chris, so they were usually too invested in their own conversations to think about letting him join. And it wasn't like he could just freely go up to Dan and hang out with him. 

That's not to mention, Dan was still being hesitant with him in the first place.

They had resolved things, mostly, and were pretty much back to normal, but now they both had that thought in the back of their minds. They had finally realized, and voiced out loud, the concerns that came with their secret relationship. And while they had agreed to just move on with it, and not worry about it any longer, Phil knew that Dan still didn't like it. And, well, neither did he.

Because he saw it now, he saw why Dan didn't like keeping them a secret. He would look around him, at school and at home and during practice, and he would just suddenly realize that not a single person knew that he had a boyfriend. He's watched enough movies and read enough stories to know there was supposed to be some kind of prideful feeling at getting to show everyone that you had a partner, someone you were committed to, and he didn't have that. And it left a really bad taste in his mouth sometimes. 

So his boyfriend was being distant with him, and his best friend wasn't even close to trying to resolve any issues with him, and Phil felt completely useless to the world. 

As of right now, he had found refuge in hanging out with Grayson and Elliot, who definitely didn't mind spending time with him, but they weren't really on the same wavelength. And Phil hadn't recently been in the mood for their usual outgoing and slightly unusual activities. 

"I told you to stop drawing penises on my face," Elliot complained, sitting cross legged on the floor in front of a mirror, rubbing his face with the sleeve of his hoodie. For the last twenty minutes, him and Grayson had been drawing all over each other, while Phil watched and contemplated his life like the low-key angst ridden teenager that he was. 

"You cannot give me a marker," Grayson explained, trying not to laugh at his friend, "and expect me not to draw a penis on your face."

They were always like this, playful and carefree, and Phil had a hard time thinking of them ever going through any kind of hardships. Not that his personal problems about his boyfriend were exactly 'hardships', he just couldn't imagine how they would react, being in the same situation. He envied their innocent ambiance, wished he could be so worry-free all the time. 

"Hey, Emo Boy," Grayson said, and Phil focused on him long enough to realize that Elliot had gotten his revenge by scrawling 'Satan is my daddy' across his forehead. "You look like you're gonna start crying MCR lyrics. What's up?"

Phil only shook his head. He wasn't the kind of person who really shared his feelings, not even with people he was close with. "Nothing, just...tired, I guess."

"That's bullshit, and you know it," Elliot said, moving in next to Grayson so that they were both blocking every escape he could possibly make. "I know that you're definitely not the most punk rock person in this group of people, but that doesn't mean you have to hide your feelings." His tone was entirely sarcastic, and Gray dig his elbow into his ribs, shooting him a pointed look. 

"Okay, well, firstly I can't take you guys seriously with all that shit on your faces," Phil responded, smiling for the first time that day as they simultaneously scowled at him. "And I'm fine, honestly. You don't have to be so worried." He was met with a pair of disbelieving looks, and he knew they didn't believe him at all. 

"Is it about Chris?" Elliot asked seriously. "We know he's been in a bad mood lately, but you don't have to take it so seriously. He's done this before, you know, ignored everyone for a few days. It's nothing personal."

He didn't bother mentioning that, this time, it was his fault. He had made Chris angry by calling him out on his not-such-a-good-influence behavior, and now he was taking it out on all of them. 

"We should go," Grayson suddenly said, apparently checking the time on his phone.

Because despite all the shit he's already been put through that week, and despite the fact that him and Chris aren't on great terms, Phil has still decided to go to the stupid party that TCE are going to be hosting tonight. He does want to see Dan, and not just for intimate reasons; he thinks they actually do have a lot to talk about as of recently, and this may the only opportunity they'll have to be alone together for a while. Plus, he lied to his parents for this, he doesn't want it to be for nothing. So he gets in the car with his two now arguing friends, and sulks in the backseat all the to Chris's house.

They're still insisting he needs to wear a disguse, even though he probably won't even be there long enough to be noticed by anyone. He doesn't feel like causing anymore tension between them, so he goes along with it, and after Chris answers the door with frown on his face, they all had upstairs, and Phil becomes their personal Barbie doll for the next twenty minutes.

"This looks absolutely fucking stupid," he says when they finish, scowling at his reflection in the mirror.  The jeans he's wearing are tight and have large rips in the knees, and he wouldn't usually mind that, except the sweatshirt he's wearing is about five sizes too big for him, hanging down to his knees almost, and also has a variety of holes in random places. Part of his face is covered by a pair of large glasses with no lenses in them (like seriously, what the point of making glasses with no use?), and they had shoved a beanie onto his head to 'hide his hair' or something, like it was a defeaning factor of his. He looked like a fucking hipster.

"It looks different," Elliot says helpfully, which in no way made Phil any less weary of the outfit. " And it's supposed to make you less noticeable."

"Yeah, I really don't think I'm 'less noticeable' this way," Phil says "I'll probably get made fun of."

But none of them really care, so he's stuck like this for the rest of the night.

***

The place is entirely packed by the time he gets there, and it's not even ten o'clock. When Dan said it was gonna be a 'private party', he'd definitely been under stating.

He does get a few weird looks as he pushes through the crowds of people, even a couple of sneers and snarky comments, but he ignores them and heads towards the kitchen. In his experience, there are usually less people there because the beer is in the lounge and that's mostly why people come to these things. Phil hates drinking recreationally, and without the influence of his band mates, he's gonna be stone cold sober tonight.

The only thing remotely pleasant so far is the music. At least his sworn enemies have good taste.

"Kill me now," he mutters under his breath, leaning against the counter heavily.

"Well, that would be no fun," says a voice to his left, and he almost yells when he looks over towards it. PJ Ligouri smiles at him in the confident and slightly intimidating way that Chris is always cursing him about, a bottle hanging effortlessly between his fingers as he steps closer. "Is my party that boring?"

Phil has no idea how he managed to even hear him over the loud music that's shaking the floors, but he doesn't question it for long. He hadn't exactly planned on having an encounter with PJ at all and is more than confused about how to handle himself. He's never had a decent conversation with the guy before, not to mention that if PJ even knew who he was, he'd probably humiliate him in the worst way possible.

"Oh," Phil stutters. "Um, no, I wasn't suggesting that. I just....parties aren't my thing. In general." He's fucking terrified that Peej will recognize him by his voice or some shit like that, and he tries to seem natural. "Nothing personal, honestly."

"That's good news, then," he replies. "You look like you could be a lot of fun."

Holy shit, is PJ Ligouri hitting on him? He feels like laughing and crying at the same time, but he settles on a nervous chuckle that he hopes doesn't seem inviting. "Not really. I'd probably just be a killjoy, mostly." 

"Would you like a drink?" PJ ignores his disinterest, inclining his head towards where all the booze is. "You seem kind of tense." Shit yeah, he's tense.

"Leave him alone, Pascal, you're scaring the poor guy." Jesus Christ, Phil's never been happier to hear Dan's voice.

"I told you not to fucking call me that," PJ glares as Dan steps up next to him, arms folded across his chest. He's looks different for some reason, but Phil can't pinpoint exactly what has changed about him.

"It's not my fault your mum overshares," Dan retorts. The two continue staring each other down, and Phil thinks they're just like Grayson and Elliot, but a lot more hostile. PJ scoffs, smiling encouragingly at Phil one last time before leaving.

And then it's just Dan and Phil, and neither of them say anything to each other for a moment. They haven't properly talked since Wednesday night, when Dan called him and they worked things out slightly, and Phil's almost forgotten how to start a conversation with him.

Because what is he supposed to say? He can't exactly apologize to him with The Who blasting through the speakers.

But thankfully, Dan does speak up first, and Phil has to lean in to hear him clearly.

"So you still came here?" He says, as a question. And it's right then that Phil notices what changed about him: he's got dark marks under his eyes, so pronounced it looks like he's put makeup on. Dan never has marks, no indications that he doesn't get enough sleep. As much as he complains about stress and difficulties in his life, Phil has never seen him physically affected by it.

"Course I did," Phil replies, deciding not to mention them. "I mean, Chris kind of forced me to, so I didn't have much of a choice."

"Sorry about PJ, he flirts with anything that's not an animal," Dan says with a wry smile.

"Is he always so creepy about it?" Phil asks, making Dan laugh and shake his head.

"Sort of, yeah. It's his method, he says people like 'slightly intimidating with a side of majorly interested', whatever that means."

They stare at each other, not saying anything for the moment. They're not standing too close, a few feet apart, and Phil suddenly wants to be closer, wants to touch him. It's been a while since they touched at all, and it might be a weird thing to be craving, but he wants it.

"We should talk," Dan says, much more serious than before. Phil nods and lets Dan take his hand, pulling him along through the crowd and towards a staircase. They don't run into PJ again, which Phil is extremely grateful for.

Upstairs is a lot quieter than he assumed, only a few people seemed to be up here, passed out on the hallway floor. Usually, all the empty rooms are filled with couples trying to get their rocks off as quickly as possible. Dan pulls him into one of the rooms, a bedroom that looks very unused, and shuts the door behind them.

"Who's house is this?" Phil asks, looking around a bit awkwardly.

"Some guy's," Dan replies with a shrug. "One of PJ's exes, I think." Phil nods, and there's a small pause before Dan speaks again. "Are we okay?"

This wasn't exactly how he envisioned this rendezvous going, a lot less talking and even less clothing. But he knows that they do need to talk about this, because it's a serious crutch in their relationship, and it's making Phil crazy.

"I don't know. Are we?" Phil says. "Lately, I just don't know. We haven't talked in, like, two days, this is the first time I've even seen you in the last week..." He trails off uncertainly.

"Do you still want to be with me?" Dan asks quietly.

"Of course I do, Dan," Phil rushes out. "I don't want us to break up because of this, I want to at least try and work things out. I just don't know how, I mean...we've never had any issues like this before." He takes a deep breath. "I know that you hate hiding it, hate hiding us, and I hate it too, trust me-"

"But not enough to do it differently?" Dan interrupts him sadly. Phil swallows, letting the guilt rip through his chest for being the worst person ever. "I want to be with you too, Phil, I really do. But sometimes, I don't really know if it's worth it."

Phil runs his hands over his face tiredly. Why is this becoming such a complication now? They've been dating a whole year, and Dan has never been particularly frustrated by their situation. It's just too sudden for Phil to deal with. "Could you just...fuck, I just need some time, okay?" He says almost pleadingly. "To think about all of this. You can't expect me to change everything so suddenly, I don't want to make a stupid decision and lose you forever , or something."

And to his utter fucking graciousness, Dan nods in agreement. Phil gives a small smile, reaching out pulling Dan closer.

"Let's just, forget about all the drama for right now, yeah?" He says in a low voice, pressing a kiss to his cheek slowly. "I haven't been alone with you in forever."

Dan scowls at his failure of a seduction tactic, but kisses him again anyway, his fingers tangling into his hair tightly, making Phil groan.

And for all the shit that's going on in his life right, Phil actually enjoys himself that night.


	8. WILD

The next couple of weeks passed without much to call worthy, and Phil was beginning to grow tiresome. He'd almost come to miss the drama that had been pursuing him before, but it all seemed to have vanished after the TCE party. 

Granted, him and Chris still weren't on great speaking terms, but he'd begun to receive nods and noncommittal noises in response to his questions, so they at least weren't completely ignoring each other. And he never thought he would think it, but he really missed the way they'd been before. It was almost unreal, how little Chris actually interacted with him these days, when they'd been closest friends for almost five years.

But as the days got shorter and colder, he soon encountered a new and much more aggressive problem.

Christmas break had come, and with it, a pile of homework from every single one of his teachers and absolutely no will or motivation to complete it. And like that wasn't bad, his mum was now spending a lot more time at home, and her constant monitoring left him on edge, to the point of him spending as much time as possible out of the house. 

But on the bright side, Dan's parents had left on a last minute vacation to America for a week, and had (reluctantly) left their son behind.

"Why don't I come here more often, again?" Phil asked, kicking his shoes off at the front door and following Dan into the kitchen. His own house was a lot more cluttered and mismatched, and the spaciousness of Dan's home was like a long exhale after holding your breath for too long.

"Because your bed is bigger," Dan said slyly, taking down two mugs and beginning to make hot chocolate. He had a good point.

Phil watched him move around the kitchen, hopping up to sit on the counter, his legs swinging. It was peacefully silent between them, the kind of quiet that came when you had nothing to say but you were so comfortable with another person, that it didn't matter. You just liked being around each other.

Moments like this were such a welcome break from their usual chaotic lives. Between the bands and school and their parents, it was lucky when they even got a chance to kiss, let alone have an entire afternoon together. But things seemed to be slowing down around them as winter approached, with much less to worry about and more time on their hands.

"So, how have you been?" Dan questioned, coming to stand next to him and handing him one of the steaming mugs. Phil took it gently, with a small smile.

"Um, alright, I guess," he said. "Bit boring, actually. Haven't had practice all this week, and I haven't got much else to do. Been spending a lot of time with my mum, really."

"Wow, desperate times, huh?"

"Definitely," Phil chuckled. "It's not as bad as you'd think, I learned how to crochet yesterday."

Dan laughed into his cup. "You gonna make me something?" He asked in a very amused tone.

"Well, I mean, I can't exactly make distinguishable things yet, mostly just lumps of string."

"Oh, I'd love a lump of string."

"I hate you," Phil said, kicking him gently in the leg. 

"Why?" Dan asked, sarcastically concerned. "I fully support you and your stringy lumps, I'm trying to be a good boyfriend."

"Okay, well, how about you be a good boyfriend and not talk about my stringy lumps anymore." 

"I'll try and contain myself," Dan said unconvincingly with a smile still playing on his lips. "Alright, so, I have a question."

"And what might that be?" Phil said, taking a sip from his mug and watching Dan over the rim of it. 

"Do you think I'd look stupid with a pierced lip?" Dan asked, pinching his bottom lip as if to demonstrate exactly where he'd get said piercing. 

"Why, are you thinking about getting one?" Phil said. He was trying to imagine Dan with a metal stud in his face, what it would look like, and what it would feel like, when they kissed. It wasn't a bad thought, either.

Dan shrugged, still poking his mouth. "Just a thought. I don't think my mum would be too supportive of it anyway."

"I don't think you'd look bad," Phil said honestly. Dan laughed once, draining what was left in his mug before setting it on the counter and grabbing Phil's hand.

"Let's watch a movie," he suggested, and Phil set his cup down as well and let himself be pulled into the living room.

They spent a good hour curled up on the sofa together, under the guise of watching movies, but they mostly talked over the TV, making jokes about the plot and adding their own commentary. Phil was one of those people who usually hated anyone talking during movies, because he hated missing any details, but he'd seen these a few times before already, and well, he had a soft spot for his boyfriends voice in the first place. Even when he wasn't singing, he had this way of making people hang onto his every word, and Phil loved listening to it. 

"I don't understand this at all," Dan said, shaking his head, his eyes fixed on the screen. "Why do they keep going into the building, all they're doing is fucking up all these other parallel world."

"Have you even been paying attention?" Phil scowled playfully. "They're trying to find out what happened to their dad, that's literally the whole point of the movie."

"I'm just saying, if it was me, I wouldn't have even gone inside in the first place."

"Cause you'd be too scared?"

"No," Dan scoffed, and Phil raised an eyebrow at him. "Okay, maybe a little bit."

Phil reached over and tangled their fingers together. "Don't worry, babe, I'd totally protect you."

It went silent between them again, and Phil was just getting back into the storyline of the movie when Dan spoke up again. 

"Can I talk to you about something serious for a second?" He asked. His voice sounded somber, and Phil looked over to see he was staring at his lap, his teeth digging into his bottom lip anxiously. He wasn't usually so nervous, about anything, and it was worrying.

"What is it?" Phil said, squeezing his hand lightly. Dan paused for a second, before grabbing the remote and pausing the movie, but he still wasn't looking at Phil.

"Have you ever, like, thought about..." he trailed off, "...about the future and stuff?"

It wasn't exactly what he was expecting, but it seemed to be really troubling Dan. "What do you mean by that?"

"I don't know, just," he shrugged his shoulders, "what your life will be like, five or ten years from now? What sort of job you'll have, or house, or...partner."

He took a deep breath that seemed to shudder in his lungs and gave Phil a weak smile. "I'm probably just be in paranoid or something, but I can't stop thinking that I won't be anything special in my lifetime. I mean, I barely keep up my grades as it is, I can't imaging myself at university, and it's not like I can be in a high school band for the rest of my life, let alone have a decent job, I'm not very good at anything that would be of use, I....I'm really worried about that kind of stuff, you know?"

Phil didn't know. He'd never given the idea much thought, what his life would be like in the years to come, didn't much like entertaining the topic. He was a touch-and-go kind of person, more worried about the present and what was happening at the moment than what it would all eventually lead to.

"I'm probably being stupid, I'm sorry-"

"No, Dan," Phil said, trying to sound reassuring, but he wasn't very good at comforting other people. "It's fine to worry about that stuff. I just don't think it'll do you much good. I mean, if you spend your whole life stressing about it, then you won't get much accomplished, will you? I don't think it really matters-"

"But it does matter," Dan said cut him off sharply. "I can't go through life without having some kind of backup plan, something to fall back on. I want to make something of myself."

"You don't have to make something of yourself," Phil said. "You should focus more on the things that make you happy."

Dan nodded slowly. "I just don't want to be a complete failure."

It was sort of weird, watching him freak out about something like this. It was usually the other way around, and Phil would come out him about any troubles and worries he had, and this was new. He most likely wasn't doing a very good job of making Dan feel better.

"You won't be," Phil said. "You're one of the best people I know of, and I know you'll do great things in your life."

Dan looked up at him, his cheeks going red. "I hope you're apart of my future, Phil."

Phil didn't get a chance to respond, because the moment was shattered when Phil's phone sprung to life, announcing he had a text message, and both of them jumped at the sudden noise in the silence.

"It's my mum," he said, practically glaring at the screen. "She's wondering where I am, I told her I was going to the library." 

Dan seemed to pull back, realizing that things had gotten gotten a bit too serious for a minute and wanting to revert to the way it had been before. He smirked, albeit a little bit deflated. "So, you're leaving then?"

"Sorry," Phil said. "She's probably worried sick, I haven't even called or anything."

"It's fine, no, I understand. I'll see you later, then?"

It probably wasn't such a good idea, leaving Dan in what seemed to be a very vulnerable state of mind, but he was already standing up to leave, and it looked like he wouldn't want to talk about it anymore anyway.

Dan walked him to the front door, and after a few kisses and a gentle shove after Phil tried to take it further, he was stepping out into the cold and hurrying to his car. 

The drive was a very preoccupied one. He couldn't stop thinking about everything that had happened, not ten minutes before, and wondering if that sort of stuff occurred a lot for Dan. He'd never seen him so caught up, and emotionally so, on one thing before, not in such a negative way. Maybe he hadn't thought about it before, but now, Phil couldn't stop his mind from wandering towards his own future.

Heinous had taken up such a large part of his life for the last two years, and he really could think of himself as anything but their bass player. They always talked big, about making it far and becoming famous and well known, but what if that didn't work out? There were countless complications that could come their way, and just because they had played a major gig recently, didn't mean they were guaranteed a shot at even a record deal.

And God knew his grades weren't cutting it anything close to acceptable. Would he even qualify for any type of job, if need be? Supporting himself was important, and now it was starting to freak him out, just the idea of not being able to do so.

But his crisis was cut short as, again in the last half hour, his phone got another text message. But this one was from Elliot.

ellie:  
u busy right now?

Phil had just pulled into the driveway to his house, and sighed as he replied. It seemed he couldn't get through a day without being needed in some shape or form. He felt like the biggest fucking social butterfly right now.

phil:  
why?

ellie:  
official band meeting, 5 min

phil:  
is it important to my immediate health and safety?

ellie:  
don't know man, Chris says it's urgent I wouldn't go against him right now

So now Chris wanted something from him? It wasn't like he had much else to do, not since he'd already left Dan's house, but being forced to sit through a 'meeting' with Chris still cold shouldering him and Grayson and Elliot not being much help either wasn't too appealing to him at the moment.

phil:  
u don't know what it's about? 

ellie:  
I was just told to tell you

Okay, he had to admit it seemed a better option than being borderline stalked by his mum in his own house. But that didn't mean he had to enjoy himself. 

Pretty much ever since they'd started the band, they would have these meetings, where they all congregated and discussed...well, it was supposed to be so they could discuss things like how to improve their sound, possible gigs they could accept, practice times; but they mostly spent the time joking around and not getting much serious work done. It was a bimonthly thing, but lately, they hadn't been keeping up with it.

Phil sent a quick text to his mum to let her know he was going over to Chris's and wouldn't be back till later, before backing out of the driveway once again.

By the time he got there, it had started snowing, small white flecks sticking to the ground and promising a fucking blizzard. All the lights were on, it seemed, as he got out of the car and walked up the front steps. He was just going to knock on the door, when it swung open, and he was face to face with Chris. There was a moment of cold silence before either of them said anything. 

"Hey," Chris said in a subdued tone, like he wasn't sure what to say. He stepped out onto the porch as well, closing the door behind him.

"What? An actual response?" Phil said, only half pretending to be surprised. "I don't think I've heard your voice in two weeks. Almost forgot what it sounded like."

Chris laughed at his sarcasm. "Yeah, okay, I get it," he said. "Look, I know I've been a real dick lately, and I know I didn't have any reason to be. Just, a defense mechanism, I suppose."

"Against what?" Phil asked. "I didn't think it was that serious, asking about your fake I.D."

"It wasn't just that, like," he blew out heavily. "You were asking why I did stuff like that, drinking until I black out and things, and.....it's just some really personal stuff, okay? And I didn't like you digging into it, and I decided that being an asshole was the best solution, which it's not I know, and I'm sorry. I want to be friends again."

Chris was giving him a pleading look, and Phil pursed his lips, thinking.

"Hm," he said. "Will you buy me three extra large bags of Doritos?"

Chris rolled his eyes with another laugh, and nodded. "Yeah, whatever, you dickhole."

They went inside after that, and headed towards the living room, where they found Elliot sitting on the couch, his arm slung around a dark-haired girl's shoulders casually. Phil had never seen her before, and he guessed they had met pretty recently.

"Grayson not here yet?" He asked.

"He went upstairs, said he had to use the bathroom," Chris said, crossing his legs beneath him on the floor. "Been up there a while though, must've ate something bad."

"I'm sure he's fine," Elliot said, and then stood up from the couch, pulling the girl up with him. "Phil, this is Andromeda."

"You can call me Audrey," she said, smiling politely and holding her hand out, which Phil shook. "Nice to meet you."

"You too," Phil said.

"I just thought she'd like to meet you guys," Elliot said. "She's heard about the band and stuff, so, why not?"

Honestly, Phil couldn't remember a time when Elliot had brought a girl to meet them. He wasn't necessarily what you would call a player, or even close to promiscuous, but he wasn't known for his long-term relationships. He claimed he was a 'fast-track, live in the moment' kind of guy. Truthfully, he just couldn't stay faithful long enough to become serious with another girl. He always found someone he felt he would be better off with, and break up with whoever he was with at the moment. Phil had thought that was kind of heartless at first, but he was used to it, and if that was how his friend wanted to live his life, he couldn't get in the way of that.

"Yeah, great," he said. "Um, I'm gonna go see if Gray is still preoccupied, I have to piss."

He got murmurs in reply, the best he could hope for, and went upstairs to the bathroom. There were two, but the downstairs was unspokenly reserved for Chris's parents, and off limits to all teenage boys.

He stopped in front of the door and knocked, but there was no reply. He turned the handle and it was unlocked, but the bathroom was empty. No sign of Grayson. He shrugged it off, not too worried about what the guy was getting into right now, and was just about to step into the bathroom, when a dull sound caught his ear, as if someone had dropped something. And then a whispered, 'shit', which came from the room right across from him, a guest bedroom.

He was sure it was Grayson, but he didn't completely forgo the idea that it might be a serial killer, breaking into the house to sacrifice them all or something. 

"Gray?" He said uncertainly, moving to stand in front of the bedroom door with his ear pressed to it. "You in there?"

There was shuffling noise from inside, and then a loud bang against the door. "Yeah, it's me, um," Grayson said, but his voice was oddly distorted. "Just, give me a second, I'll be out soon."

But Phil had always been too curious for his own good, and this whole situation didn't seem right to him.

"Are you okay in there?" Phil asked. "You sound a bit weird."

"I'm fine," Grayson said quickly. "Just go away, I'm fine, okay?"

"As much as I can tell that you really don't want me bothering you right now," Phil said, trying not to sound too pushy, "I'm actually sort of worried about whatever it is that's bothering you, and I don't want to just leave and not even try to make you feel better. I'd feel like a really bad friend."

It was another minute of bated silence before the door opened, and Grayson stood on the other side, giving him a blank look. Phil realized with a surprised jolt that his face was wet with tears that were still falling. 

"Why are you so goddamn persistent?" He said in a criticizing voice. Phil couldn't think of a time he'd ever looked so broken down.

"What's the matter?" Phil asked, ignoring his earlier comment. Gray swallowed thickly, before grabbing him by the wrist and pulling him into the room as well, shutting the door behind him and leaning against it heavily.

"She's really pretty, isn't she?" Grayson wasn't looking at him, instead staring at the floor idly, his arms crossed tightly over his stomach. 

"Who?"

"Elliot's new girlfriend," he says it with a laugh, like the whole idea is funny to him, but it's cracked and emotionless and Phil knows this isn't a joke. "I, I don't even remember her name, but she....she's pretty, that's all that matters, yeah?"

"She's attractive, I guess," Phil said, still entirely confused but not wanting to offend his friend in some unknown way. "So, what, you locked yourself up here because she's too good looking?"

"I bet he doesn't even know anything about her, nothing personal," Gray continues on his own spiel, as if Phil hadn't even spoken. "They've probably known each other a week, and he'll be head over heels for her for another two days. Why does he do that? He has a different girl on his arm every other week, it seems, why doesn't he ever think about actually having at lasting relationship?"

"That's Ellie for you."

"I could..." he stops, runs his fingers through his hair and sighs. "God, it's every queer guys worst nightmare, isn't it, having a crush on a straight guy."

It takes him entirely too long to catch up with what Grayson is saying, and when he does process the whole situation, well, he can't say he isn't shocked. "Oh," Phil said. "I didn't, know you liked him."

"Really?" Gray said, actually looking amused about that. "I always thought I was pretty obvious about it."

It makes sense, now, if he thought about it. Elliot and Grayson were closer than a lot of people expected of two friends, the kind of friends that made people jealous of their own intimate relationships. They were together more than they were apart, almost inseparable, and basically unstoppable when they joined forces. It was the sort of thing that made you smile if you saw it, just how synchronized and in tune they were with each other, and it was something that seemed like would last forever.

But Phil would never guess that it meant something deeper to one of them. As close as they were, and as much as they toed the line between platonic and downright sexual, he'd known them a long time, and he didn't think either of them would think of the other as anything more. 

"I'm not very good at comforting other people," Phil said, still trying to get over this new development in his group of friends, "so sorry of this is insensitive, but you haven't told him, have you?"

Grayson shook his head. "Can you imagine how that would go? Things would be so awkward between us, I could never." He laughed again like he was picturing that scenario. "The teenage pansexual who has unrequited feelings for his best friend."

"You don't have to feel bad about it."

"Yeah, well, my mind doesn't agree with you there."

He didn't have a thing else he could say at this point, and the silence was getting to him, he felt sort of useless right now. Twice, in the last hour, he found himself in situations where other people relied on him, and bared their deepest emotions to him, and he had failed both times at trying to help them. What good was he, he couldn't even try to empathize. 

"They're probably wondering where we are," he said stupidly. "We should go back down there."

Grayson seemed to absolutely abhor the idea of going anywhere near Elliot and his new friend, but agreed that he would rather face it than have them come barging in on this personal moment. He wiped his face as best as he could, and rinsed his eyes with cold water so they wouldn't be so red, and went back downstairs. Phil followed him, after using the bathroom himself, since it was why he'd initially come up here.

By the time he joined the rest of the group, Grayson was back to his old self, laughing loudly, like there wasn't a thing in the world that could bother him. He was even sitting next to Audrey, and didn't seem at all put off by the arrangement.

It made Phil wonder just how well his other friends could hide their secrets. And how good he was at hiding his own.


	9. Disasterology

"Dan Howell is such a lesbian."

Phil looked up from his French textbook at the sound of his boyfriend's name, watching Chris sit down across from him at their lunch table. It was rare when he sat with them at all, let alone fuming about people being lesbians. "Why's that?" He asked curiously. 

"Just cause, don't argue with me."

"You know, as much as I'd love to not argue with you," Phil said with a smirk, "I don't think that's a very valid reason for someone being a lesbian."

"We're talking about lesbians?" Elliot said from behind him in much too excited a tone. He sat next to him, and Phil realized that Audrey was with him too, their fingers interlocked. Grayson was suspiciously absent from the group. "The sexy kind?"

"Don't be an asshole, lesbians are people too," Phil said, turning the page of his textbook uselessly; he was supposed to be studying, but his friends were being their usual distracting selves, and he was getting nowhere.

"He got higher marks on a test than me," Chris said, continuing their earlier conversation as if they hadn't been interrupted. "I mean, I know he's smart and all that, but Chemistry is my subject, I established my dominance a long time ago."

"Well, don't take it too seriously," Elliot said sarcastically, which made Audrey laugh, a bit too theatrically to be genuine.

"I'm having a real shit day," Chris sighed, burying his head in his hands. "I broke my enhancer this morning, you know how much it's gonna cost to get a new one?"

"How?" Phil asked. He knew Chris was pretty clumsy, but he was someone who took good care to make sure the things he liked stayed intact. 

"Dropped a bowling ball on it."

"Where the fuck did you even get a bowling ball?"

"Does that matter?" Chris said. "I dropped it, and now I'm gonna have to get a new enhancer."

"You do know you don't have to spend almost two hundred dollars for one," Phil said gently. "There are some pretty cheap ones out there."

"Yeah, on fucking ebay, that were probably used to kill people or something. Either way, they suck."

"You're so picky."

He gave up the pretense of studying, closing the book and laying his head on top of it. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night, between getting home late after their 'meeting', which had ended at 11 o'clock, and staying up half the night stuck in his own head.  Thoughts of Dan, and Grayson and Elliot, and his future all collided into one colossal mess of Fuck My Life, and it was surprisingly hard to escape from it. He was probably going to end up asleep next period.

He was just starting to drift off, despite the noisy chatter of the cafeteria, when his phone buzzed in his pocket, making him jump slightly. He pulled it out with a sigh.

lover:  
algebra can suck a dick. meet me in the bathrooms??

Well, he couldn't say no to that eloquent request.

Chris was still sulking into his tray, Elliot and Audrey were engrossed in their own conversation that involved way too much giggling and touching, and Grayson was still missing, so Phil figured he wouldn't be entirely missed for the next ten minutes.

phil:  
as you wish, my insatiable conquest

lover:  
stfu, loser

He smiled and stood up, unnoticed by his table mates, pushing through the hoards of other students towards the exit. He understood completely why Chris hated it so much in here; he had a very hard time himself not shoving everyone that was in his way to the floor. They were loud and insensitive and unnecessary.

He had to be careful, or he'd be caught by a teacher, and that would most definitely not be a good thing, for various reasons; most of them would love nothing more than to give him weeks worth of detention just for wandering the halls. But worse than that, he wouldn't get to see Dan.

It was to his luck that the corridors were empty, and he made it to his destination without a hitch.

Dan was already there, sitting on the counter that stretched across the far wall, his legs dangling over the edge and his head leaned back against the wall with his eyes closed. He didn't seem to notice that Phil was there yet.

It always struck him at random times, how gorgeous Dan was. He'd always found him attractive, from the time they'd first met and every moment in between, but it was like a punch in the stomach, when Phil really stopped to look at him. And he knew that Dan didn't think much of himself, that he'd had self-esteem issues when he was younger and hadn't fully gotten over that,  it Phil could never think of him as anything but goddamn beautiful.

"So, I heard," Phil said, smiling when Dan jumped at the sound of his voice and glared at him, "that you scored higher than Chris on a Chemistry test."

"Okay, I know we're dating," Dan said, hopping off the counter, "but that's a bit stalkerish."

"Well, he was complaining about it before I left, kinda hard not to hear. Called you a lesbian."

"It wasn't that hard a test, honestly," Dan said with a shrug, but Phil saw the small smile that passed over his lips. "And he didn't score much lower than me."

"Yeah, whatever, genius," Phil teased, pulling him closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Are you doing okay?"

Dan looked up at him blankly. "Yeah. Why?"

He didn't know how sensitive a subject it was, but he felt it was better to at least try and approach the topic. "Just, with everything that happened yesterday...you seemed pretty freaked out. I wanted to make sure you were feeling better about the whole thing. I know I left before we talked about it properly, that was really stupid of me, I should have made sure you were okay."

"I'm fine," Dan said, smiling at Phil's rambling, and it seemed genuine. "I was just...not in such a good place then. I'm totally over it now."

"You're sure?"

"Completely," Dan reassured him gently, reaching up and cupping his face. "Now. A serious discussion is not why I wanted you to meet me here."

Phil laughed, and leaned down to kiss him once, quickly. "Yeah? That's all I am to you, a quick snog in a bathroom?"

"Oh, you're so much more than that," Dan said, faux seriously. He kissed him again. "You're one of the most important parts of my life."

There were no more words between them after that, because then Phil pressed their lips together, maybe a bit too firmly because Dan had to step backwards so as not to fall over, and they ended up leaning against the wall. It wasn't a messy kiss, not anything near it, but it wasn't exactly tame, either.

This was entirely too risky, he was sure they both knew that. But it was hard to think about the underlying consequences of making out in such a public place when Dan was clinging to his shirt like his life depended on it, and his own lips were starting to go numb.

Kissing Dan was an entire experience of its own, mind blowing and mesmerizing all in itself.

So of course the moment would be ruined by someone walking in.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't know anyone was - holy shit."

Phil pulled away from Dan as quickly as possible, but it was too late. The damage was done. He looked over at the intruder and almost immediately wished he had the power to set himself on fire.

"Grayson," he said,  trying to come up with some kind of excuse as to why he was just caught tongue wrestling with someone he supposedly hated. The choices were not so great. "I, um... what are you doing here?"

Gray raised an eyebrow, his face a mixture of disbelief, amusement and confusion. It would almost be funny if Phil wasn't on the verge of cardiac arrest. "Oh, I don't know," he said sarcastically, "what does one usually do in a bathroom?"

"I, um," Dan spoke up from beside him, his voice shaking slightly. "I'm gonna go. See you later?" Phil would rather he stayed, and not leave him to deal with the aftermath of this chaotic situation, but another part of him was glad he was leaving, the over-protective boyfriend side of him most likely. So he nodded, and watched Dan carefully exit the bathroom, stepping around a still shell-shocked Grayson.

"I can explain," Phil said as soon as the door closed, and Grayson nodded.

"Oh, you'd better," he said. "Why are you and Dan Howell humping like pre-pubescant fourteen year olds in a school bathroom?"

"You can't tell anyone," Phil pleaded, taking a step closer. "Please, Grayson, this is so serious, and I know you probably don't care, but it could ruin everything if you tell."

"I won't."

"It's complicated and messy, and it probably won't end well, but - wait, what?"

"I won't tell anyone," Grayson said. "Why would I?"

Was he missing something? "Because...we're not supposed to be together?" He said uncertainly. He didn't know if this was some kind of joke or not, so he wasn't completely letting his guard down.

"And who decided that?" Grayson asked. "Hey, I've got no right to judge you on who you like. If you get your rocks off on 'forbidden relationships' or whatever, I don't care."

"You're seriously okay with this?" Phil said. "I was sort of expecting a bit more yelling and.....hitting, or something."

Gray laughed, and stepped closer to pat him on the shoulder. "Do what you want, mate, it doesn't affect me."

That had gone a lot better than expected, and Phil didn't really know what to do now. "Okay," he said. "I, um...we should get back to the cafeteria, then?"

"Oh, I'm not going there," Grayson said with a twisted smile. "Too much emotional drama for me." It was only then that Phil remembered Audrey's  sudden appearance at their table, and realized why Gray hadn't been there in the first place. He agreed.

"See you later, then," he said, and then turned to leave.

Back at the lunch table, no one had noticed his absence, and he sat down again without any questions about his whereabouts. Thankfully too, because he was still trying to process everything that has just happened in the last few minutes. 

He didn't think he'd have any problems about Grayson telling anyone about him and Dan, but it still worried him. Now he has one more person to keep track of, and he wasn't sure how persistent he'd be about it.

***

By the end of the day, Phil was practically dead on his feet. It didn't help that he still had practice with the band in an hour, and he planned on getting at least another thirty minutes of sleep before then. He couldn't imagine even holding his guitar right now, let alone play it.

He followed the wave of students out the front door and to the parking lot, digging into his pockets for his keys, but stopped when he saw Dan standing by his car.

"Hey," Dan said with a small smile. "I was just wondering if I could have a ride, um....my usual carpool is sick, so I don't have anyway to get home."

Phil nodded. "Yeah, no, it's fine. Get in."

"So, um," Dan said, climbing into the passenger seat as Phil started the car, "what happened with Grayson, after I left? Sorry for, like, abandoning you, I just kind of freaked out."

"Nah, it's alright," Phil said. "It didn't go as bad as I thought it would. He doesn't care, at least, and he said he wouldn't tell anyone."

"That's good, then," Dan said with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. 

It wasn't a long drive to Dan's house, and it was only a few minutes later when Phil pulled up into the driveway. His parents weren't due back until tomorrow, but Phil didn't try bringing up possibly coming inside; he'd probably end up skipping practice to spend time with Dan.

"Call me later?" Dan said, giving Phil a hopeful look.

"Of course," Phil smiled at him, and reached out to run his fingers through his hair gently. "Might be a bit late though, Chris is on a fucking warpath right now about practice."

"Good luck then," Dan said. He twisted his fingers into the front of Phil's shirt and pulled him closer until their lips met, a bit messily, but they didn't pull apart. Phil kissed him deeper, his teeth digging into Dan's bottom lip, and then Dan pushed him away. They sat there for a few seconds, barely an inch apart and breathing a bit off kilter. "Bye," Dan muttered.

He got out of the car, and Phil watched him until he'd gone inside the house, before heading back the way he'd come.


	10. We Don't Believe What's On TV

As if by some unspoken agreement, Phil and Grayson became a lot closer.

They'd never really hung out with each other before, both having bigger priorities in their life, and even though they were in the same band, it wasn’t like they actively sought each other out for company. They were friends, but they had stronger connections with other people, that weren’t each other.

But there was a new bond built between them now, a solid wall of trust that came with sharing their deepest and most threatening secrets with each other. Phil felt a lot more at ease hanging out with Grayson, not having to worry about accidentally mentioning his secret relationship with Dan, because Gray already knew, and he didn’t care.

“And I don’t even know why he does it,” Grayson was saying, sprawled across Phil’s bed and staring at the ceiling, his hands gesticulating wildly as he talked. “But every single time my shoes come untied, he steps on the laces. No warning, he just steps on them, and he thinks it’s so funny every time he does it. But it is cute when he laughs like that, he gets this weird crease near his eyes? Adorable.”

The only downside to these newfound meetups was the constant conversation about everything that had to do with Elliot. He didn’t think there was much else to know about the guy, but Grayson always came bearing some new detail that had very little impact on Phil’s life. He didn’t say anything against it though; he wasn’t much of a talker himself, and it seemed like Grayson needed to vent to someone about all of this stuff, having kept it to himself for so long.

“Are you still ignoring him?” Phil asked mechanically, more interested in his phone then paying full attention to his lovesick friend’s pining.

Grayson sighed from where he was lying. “Sort of, I guess,” he said lowly. “It just seems a bit awkward, trying to talk to him these days. I mean, he’s almost always with Audrey, and I don’t want to be a third wheel, that would be lame and pathetic. And we’ve never been good at texting each other, it’s always so boring that way.” He rolled over onto his stomach and groaned loudly into Phil’s pillows. “Why do hormones exist?”

Phil laughed, ignoring the glare Gray threw at him, and opened the text message Dan had just sent him with a grin.

“Not everyone can have a happy relationship like you and Howell, you know,” Grayson said. He only ever called Dan by his last name, which Phil suspected had something to do with his current resentment towards anyone with their own respective partner.

Phil didn't respond, biting his lip as he typed out a reply.

He didn't know if 'happy' was an adjective he'd use to describe his and Dan's relationship. At least, not these days. They were stable most of the time, but constantly toed the line of self-destructive. Phil loved being with him, he couldn't deny that in any way, and it was with desperate hope that Dan felt the same way, but everything was vague and uncertain as of late. Sometimes, he would say something that seemed completely innocent, but Dan would get this guarded look on his face that made Phil wonder what the hell he'd done wrong. 

Maybe it was because Grayson now knew about them that was making him act so strange. Or maybe it was because Grayson was the only one who knew about them. Phil didn't like thinking about it much.

"Maybe you should just tell him," Phil suggested lightly, not looking up from his phone screen.

"You know I can't."

Phil sighed and glanced up for the first time at his friend. "Do you honestly think he'll act different just because he knows you like him?" He asked. "You guys are closer than most people in actual  relationships, he wouldn't throw all that away because of a crush."

"You can't be sure of that," Gray said.

"I know you guys-"

"But you don't know the situation," Grayson cut him off, sitting up sharply. He didn't look angry, just a slightly put off. "You've had a boyfriend for well over a year now, you can't possibly imagine what it's like being in love with someone who will never want you back."

"Now you're in love with him?" Phil asked, raising an eyebrow.

Grayson ran his fingers through his hair roughly, and flopped backwards onto the bed. "I don't fucking know," he said in a subdued voice. "We're in high school, I don't know what love is; who fucking does?"

"I'm sorry," Phil said, although he felt it was entirely unhelpful to the situation. "I just think keeping it a secret is making you a bit crazy."

Grayson snorted. "Yeah, cause you're the expert at keeping secrets, aren't you?"

"Are you getting mad at me?" Phil asked. He was trying to be at least a little bit supportive of this whole thing, but it seemed nothing he did or said was good enough, for anyone. It was starting to agitate him, how everyone came to him with their troubles and secrets, but they never really appreciated him actually digging into it, like it wasn't his business. And technically, it wasn't, but he had some right to speak his own mind about it, didn't he?

"No, I'm not," Gray sighed again. "I just think you should worry about your own problems before trying to fix anyone else's."

And wow, that was like a kick to the teeth.

They weren't harsh words, and Phil knew they weren't meant to make him feel bad, but his teenage emotions told him otherwise. He glanced away, over at the wall, and tried to dispel the heavy feeling that had begun to form in his chest.

They sit in awkward silence for a few seconds, both processing the very unfamiliar and uncomfortable tension that has suddenly appeared between them, but it's broken by Phil's phone buzzing in his hands. He'd nearly forgotten he was holding it.

"Elliot wants to know where you are," he says, reading the text message he's just received. He sees Grayson smile for a split second, but then it fades, and he scowls. "Want me to tell him?"

"No," Gray murmurs. "I need a few more days without him."

"He wants to come over," Phil says.

"Shit," Grayson shakes his head, before standing up and grabbing his jacket from where he'd thrown it on Phil's desk when he first came over. "Guess I'm leaving, then."

"Have fun with your avoidance," Phil says just before he leaves, laughing as Gray flicks him off. He picks up his phone again and messages Elliot back, letting him know he can come over.

It wasn't too long ago, when Phil couldn't even talk to them separately. They were usually such a tight knit pair, and it was unnerving to say the least, them being so far apart. It was like their whole group dynamic was being thrown off, just because they didn't talk to each other.

His room door opened again, and Elliot walked in, looking windswept and slightly disheveled. Phil stared at him curiously.

"You know it's been, like, two minutes since you texted me?" He asked, crossing his arms. Elliot shrugged. "How'd you get here so quickly?"

"I was in the general vicinity," Ellie said casually. "Figured I'd drop by, it wasn't out of my way."

Phil wondered how him and Grayson hadn't run into each other, he couldn't have gone that far in such a short span of time, but then he got another text, this one from Grayson.

gray:  
holy shit, i had to hide in your neighbors bushes so E wouldn't see me

Phil covered his mouth, but couldn't stop from laughing at the mental image of his friend hiding in a shrub for the sole purpose of avoiding being seen by his crush. Elliot glanced at him questioningly, but didn't say anything about it.

"God, today's been the longest day ever," he groaned, and dropped onto Phil's bed wearily, in almost the exact same spot that Grayson had occupied not minutes before. Phil held back his sigh, and prepared for another impromptu therapy session.

"Why's that?" He asked, and unlocked his phone to once resume texting Dan. It was a very inane conversation, jumping from one random topic to another in a matter of seconds, but it was successful in keeping him from being bored out of his mind. Not that his friends' problems were boring, they just didn't keep him engaged long enough to be interested. Or maybe he was half-assed friend, and he subconsciously just didn't give a shit.

"I've been stressing out way too much about way too many things," Elliot said. "You know, the general stuff; school, and the band and my friends. I haven't spoken to Gray in almost a month, I don't know if it's something I did, if he's mad at me, but it's really freaking me out. I don't want to sound like a douchebag, but it's not like him to stay away from me for so long. Doesn't answer my calls or texts either.”

Phil shrugged, hoping his expression didn't reveal how much he actually knew about Grayson’s social disappearance. “Maybe you should talk to him, you know, in person? Corner him or something, you know how stubborn he can be.”

Elliot covered his face. “Yeah, just, I don't want to annoy him anymore than I probably already have,” he said. And then he laughed and shook his head. “Audrey says I'm worrying a bit too much, that it'll work out eventually.”

“You guys still going, then?” Phil asked, more so to keep up the act of him being interested than being actually curious for the answer.

"Of course," Elliot said, looking almost offended that Phil would even ask. "I mean...she's great, Phil. Like, really great. She goes so fast, and sometimes, I feel like I'm missing out. She knows exactly what she wants and how to get it, and usually, girls are so complicated, with all their feelings and miscommunication." 

"Girls are not complicated," Phil scoffed, still staring at his phone. "You're just always too busy trying to get in their pants than actually paying attention to them. Now guys....guys are complicated." He would know.

"Guys are the furthest thing from complicated," Elliot said, shaking his head incredulously.

"And what would you know about being with a guy?” Phil asked sarcastically, fully expecting Elliot to back out of the topic completely and deny any possibility of being even slightly flexible.

But Elliot shrugged, and started picking at the blanket under. “I've….experimented.”

He honestly thought he had heard wrong. Elliot, his friend, possibly one of the straightest people he knew in his life, had been at least slightly intimate with another guy. It was hard to imagine, and sort of weird.

“You're fucking joking, aren't you?” Phil asked in disbelief. “You're messing with me.”

Ellie shook his head. He looked extremely hesitant to talk about it, or maybe it just wasn't important to him, but Phil's attention was now captured fully.

“It was a one time thing, okay, a long time ago,” he argued half heartedly. “It didn't mean anything.”

“Who with?”

“That's really not important,” Elliot said quickly, and he was smiling, but Phil could see he was slightly nervous. “Doesn't matter, I promise.”

“Was it someone I know?” Phil pressed on, moving across the room and sitting in front of Elliot on his bed. Elliot gave him an anxious look and shook his head, refusing to keep talking. Phil grabbed him by the shoulders. “Dude! You can't tell me took a dip in the gay pool, and not tell me who with, at least.”

“Jesus Christ…” Elliot muttered, shoving him away. “Fine, it was….it was someone you know.”

Phil waited for him to continue impatiently, watching him fidget under the stare of his interrogator.

“It was Chris.”

"Oh my fucking god," Phil said gleefully. "Chris Kendall? You slept with Chris Kendall, our friend and faithful member of Heinous?"

"I didn't sleep with him-"

"This is the best day of my life."

"Shut up," Elliot said, kicking Phil gently, but he was smiling as well. "It really didn't mean anything, we were drunk stupid, and I was...I don't even know what I was. But it's in the past, over and done with."

"Okay," Phil said, turning onto his back so that he was facing the ceiling. "But I'm never gonna let you two live this down."

"He doesn't like talking about it," Elliot said. "Chris, I mean. I think he barely remembers it anyway."

"Aw, you were that bad?" Phil asked, grinning when Ellie glared at him.

"Alright we're done talking about this," Elliot said firmly.

"Fine, fine," Phil conceded. "Who was better, him or Audrey?"

Elliot punched him in the arm.


	11. Cheap Shots & Setbacks

"And all he does is play the ukulele and scream," Chris said in clear frustration, digging through his bag as he talked. An almost useless attempt, because the halls were crowded with students, all shoving and bumping into him and Phil as they headed to class. "But it works, I mean, I don't know how he does it, but it sounds good. Never thought I'd see the day when I get goosebumps from a mini guitar."

"Mhmm," Phil muttered in agreement. He wasn't too invested in the conversation, as bad a friend as that made him sound, because he'd already missed half of what Chris was talking about and it was pointless trying to figure it out now. 

He'd been lost in his head the whole morning, a distracted mess of the usual emotional and stress inducing ideology that school always seemed to leave him with, plus the newer and even more distracting thoughts he'd acquired about pretty much every aspect of his life. He couldn't look Chris in the eye without imaging him and Elliot in some compromising situations, and no matter how queer he was, it wasn't exactly something he wanted to be thinking about. Grayson had been avoiding all of them still, and he hadn't seen Dan in person since last week.

"We need to start being a bit more serious about practicing," Chris continued, stopping at his locker. "FTC is way too close for comfort, and I know our lives have been like a fucking soap opera lately with all the weird ass drama, but we have to be ready."

Phil didn't respond. He'd nearly forgotten about FTC completely, and the thought of it now left a nauseating mixture of dread and excitement in his stomach. "Have you heard anything new about it?" He asked.

Chris sighed, dropping his bag to the ground by his feet and leaning against the row of metal lockers. "Not much, only that it's gonna be soon, and that we need to start preparing." He clenched his jaw. "And that TCE is gonna be one of the first sets."

"We need to start putting our set together, then," Phil said with a shrug. "Figure out which songs we're doing, and when."

"God, I hate this," Chris muttered wearily, holding his head in his hands as if he had a headache. "We don't even know who we're up against, how are we supposed to know which ones work best against our competition?"

Phil patted his shoulder. "That's the whole point of this crazy game, Chrissy."

"Piss off," Chris shoved him away, and turned to open his locker. "Hey, do you have the notes from last English class, I swear I had them but I can't-"

But he never finished speaking, because when he swung open the door of his locker, there was a sound like a vacuum cleaner and then he was covered from head to toe in what looked like black paint.

There was a moment of stunned silence, where everyone in their general vicinity paused to completely process what had just happened, before the hall erupted in excited chatter, pointing at the scene that had interrupted their usually dull school day.

"Holy shit," Phil muttered, looking at Chris's unmoving form, and then at his locker. Everything inside was also coated in black, his textbooks and papers and extra sets of clothes. It wasn't pretty.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me," Chris growled, and reached out to rip off a sheet of paper from the door of his locker that Phil hadn't noticed before. Even covered in paint, he still managed to look terrifying in his anger. Phil read over his shoulder:

You're an exceptional artist, babe, but  
you won't get far with a temper   
like that.

See you at FTC.

-PJ ♡

It didn't take much to set Chris off, even the smallest of problems would send him into a unmanageable rage, but this was probably the worst Phil had seen him. He was visibly shaking, and the note was crumpled in his hands, and Phil could hear his breathing, harsh and quick. 

"Okay, so, I know this situation isn't exactly the best," Phil said, trying to reassure his friend, "but maybe you should calm down before you do anything you might regret and-"

"Shut up, Phil," Chris snarled, slamming his locker door and marching off with a determination that forced everybody out of his way. Phil sighed and followed him, if only to make sure he didn't end up getting suspended or something.

Even though they were supposed to be sworn enemies, they had never had much of any physical altercations with TCE. It was mostly slander and glaring at each other, so this whole thing was something completely unexpected, even from PJ.

Every single person they passed paused in whatever they were doing to stare at Chris as he stormed by, and Phil as he chased after him. The attention was slightly unnerving, but he knew it would only get worse.

PJ was only a few halls away, leaning against the wall outside of one of the classrooms with a group of people, including his band mates. Phil made eye contact with Dan for half a second before averting his gaze. PJ looked up as they approached, and even from a distance, Phil could see the giddy look in his eyes when he saw Chris.

"Wow, Kendall," he said loudly, smirking widely. "Black looks good on you. Don't know if you'll be staying any trends soon, though." The people around him laughed, but the smug look on his face disappeared when Chris gripped the front of his shirt and slammed him against the wall.

"Fuck you," he growled through his teeth, his face so close to PJs, they were dangerously close to kissing. "You think this is funny, or cute?"

PJ didn't seem at all fazed by Chris's anger, and shrugged. Even pinned to the wall, he looked effortlessly unconcerned. "I'd say more exciting."

Chris glared even harder, as if PJs lack of response was was making him even more annoyed. "I'll fucking end you."

"You're so hot when you're angry," PJ muttered, more to himself, but still loud enough to be heard. And Phil noticed, even under the dark paint that covered his face, Chris still blushed at the words.

There was another few seconds of tensely charged silence, where Phil thought maybe Chris was actually going to punch PJ in the face, but to his surprise and maybe to a few others, he stepped back, letting go of PJs shirt. PJ smiled again, a condescending grin that mocked them, and brushed off the front of his shirt, as if Chris had made it dirty.

And then the bell rang, a shrill sound that cut through them all, and the halls became emptier as everyone made their way to class. Chris huffed once more and stalked off without a word. Phil decided to leave him be for now.

He turned and was heading to his own class, when someone grabbed his arm, and he looked over at Dan's panicked face. The hallway was mostly barren, with little risk of them being seen together. 

"I didn't know he was going to do that," he said quickly, almost desperately. "I really didn't, and there's no way in hell I helped him."

"'Course you didn't," Phil said, pulling away and continuing to where his class was.

"You seriously think I would let him do that?"

Phil shrugged. "I honestly don't think you'd have been able to stop him," he said. "You know, you seem to only be able to follow him, whatever he does, no complaints or questions. Like a dog."

"Fuck you, Phil," Dan choked out, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "You're an asshole if you think I'd stoop so low."

"Well then, I guess I'm an asshole." He didn't say anything else, and turned to walk the way he'd come without looking back.

***

If Phil had to name the most tense situation he'd ever been in, it would either be that one time a few months ago when him and Dan had been in the school library together with about twenty other people and couldn't stop giving each other bedroom eyes, or this very moment in time.

As Chris had said earlier that day, they hadn't been very persistent with practices, and this was probably the first time they'd all been in the same room together in the last two weeks. Not that they were getting much work done in the first place.

Chris was still fuming, his whole body set in a rigid line and his words short and cold, yelling directions and criticism every two minutes. He had a newly lit vengeance for PJ Liguori, and it seemed it wouldn't end until he got what he wanted. And what he wanted, none of them knew. It was never good, getting involved in his plans when he was so volatile, so they kept their distance, and stayed quiet.

And if it wasn't the bad vibes coming from Chris's constant berating, then it was the offset of Grayson and Elliot.

They were out of tune with each other, and in succession, the whole band. Phil had never noticed before, how the chemistry they had when playing was a necessity for all of them, but it was noticeable now. If they didn't work well together, then nothing worked, and it all tied back to Chris, because it only made him angrier and more likely to yell at them.

"I hate my life," Chris sighed, leaning against the wall and sliding down until he was sitting, his head resting in his hands. The other three watched him warily, afraid he would lash out at them again suddenly. "I am nothing in this world."

Phil looked back at his other two friends, wondering what the hell they were supposed to do. Grayson shrugged and pointed at Chris, miming that Phil should go talk to him, and Phil quickly shook his head, not wanting to be in the direct line of fire. Elliot pointed too, much more vigorously. Phil sighed and flipped them off, before setting his bass down and tentatively going to sit beside Chris.

"That's a bit harsh, don't you think?" He said gently. "You're so much more than...nothing." He was the worst at comforting people, he already knew.

"Yeah, right," Chris scoffed at himself. "I can't even put together a simple set."

"That's totally not your fault," Phil said, looking up at Gray and Elliot sheepishly, who were studiously facing opposite directions. He sighed. "It's all of us, we just....need to find our rhythm again."

Chris shook his head. "There's no point," he muttered. "Maybe...maybe we shouldn't even do FTC."

Phil raised an eyebrow. "Seriously? You'd much rather drop out of the biggest competition ever, just because you think we're not ready? Sorry, but that's bullshit."

"Is it?" Chris leaned his head back against the wall. "Sure, we're good, maybe even great. But there will be hundreds of bands that are a hundred times greater." He shrugged helplessly. "Not to mention TCE, they'll probably kick our ass. We don't stand a chance."

"And you get to decide that for us?" Phil asked, getting irritated. "Just because you're getting down and out because of PJ or whatever, doesn't mean you can just make decisions like that. We're all apart of this, and you're the only one who seems to be freaking out about it." Not necessarily true; Phil was freaking out about it too, but in a much more nervously excited way, and he kept it to himself.

"You wouldn't understand," Chris said, his eyes closed.

"What the hell happened?" Phil asked. "What the hell did he do to you that made you so scared of him?"

Chris jumped up from where he was sitting, so fast that Phil nearly toppled over from sitting too close, and grabbed his guitar. "I'm not fucking scared of him," he almost growled. "And you don't need to know anything." And then he was gone, slamming the door behind him as he left.

Phil stood there for a moment, wondering what had just happened, before running his fingers through his hair. "Well," he said, looking over at his other two friends, "guess practice is over."

He grabbed his bass guitar and zipped it into its case, and was heads in out the door as well, when Grayson grabbed his arm. "I'll walk with you," he said quietly. Phil nodded, letting him tag alone in the desperate attempt not to be left alone with Elliot.

It was only five, hours before Phil actually had to be home, but he didn't have anywhere else to really go. The sky was orange outside, close to going completely dark soon, and the air was cold. He shoved his hands into his pockets as he walked.

"You really think he'd do that?" Grayson asked from beside him. "Make us drop out of FTC?"

"It's not his choice," Phil said through his teeth. "We can find a new guitarist for all I care, but he's not in charge here. No one is."

Another few seconds of silence, and then Grayson laughed, a hollow and humorless sound. "God. What's happening to us?" He said. "I mean...a month ago, no one would have even thought about kicking each other out of the band. No one knew I liked Ellie, and that you were dating Dan Howell. And PJ didn't give two shits about us. And now we're, like, turning on each other.

"He's right, though," he said. "We don't stand a chance."

Phil didn't say anything to that, but deep in his chest, he couldn't help but agree.


	12. MakeDamnSure

Phil's parents weren't hard to get along with. 

Quite the opposite, actually, or maybe more sideways than that. There were tough times, arguments and disagreements and even a few yelling matches that he would never admit were his own fault, but in the most simplest of terms, they were bearable. If he didn't get in their way or draw any attention to himself, and they didn't pry too deeply into his personal life, things were easy. They coexisted, in the least rejective way possible. 

They had intimate moments, conversations so that they weren't completely out of the loop with each other, but they were best at keeping to themselves. 

Of course, that routine was temporarily put on hold when Phil walked into the kitchen Tuesday morning with hickies trailing down his throat. They weren't new, he'd been hiding them for a few days now, and with the thin ice that him and Dan were on right now, they definitely hadn't been made recently. He'd just forgotten to wear a higher collared shirt today, and his mum had zeroed in on them instantly. 

"Didn't tell us you were with someone," she said, too fake nonchalant to be believable, and when Phil gave her a confused look, she just pointed to his neck with a sly smirk that made him flush and cover the skin, uselessly now. 

"S'not serious," he said with a shrug, and when he really thought about it, those words were really fucked up. When had he become so good at dismissing a year long relationship with one of the most important people in his life? Especially to his parents. "I thought you'd rather not hear the details."

"What's that mean, 'not serious'?" She asked, completely disregarding that last part. "Don't tell me you're gonna be breaking some innocent person's heart."

"What? Of course not," he exclaimed, wondering where the hell she would get that idea. "I mean, just, nothing to be too excited about. Just a...guy."

Just a guy he hadn't spoken to in three days. A guy who probably hated him right now, and who was going to most likely dump him some time soon. A guy he really liked and hated keeping a secret like this, but he didn't even know their current status, so he couldn't start spilling all his feelings now if they didn't mean anything in the long run. 

He felt so damn guilty about what he'd said last week, but seeing his friend humiliated like that....

He knew Chris could take care of things himself, and didn't need Phil's help in any way, but he couldn't help it. It was like...hell, he didn't know fucking know what it was like, but he'd feel really bad if he hadn't defended his friend at all. Dan had just been his unintentional target, and now Phil was just an asshole who didn't know how to apologize without sounding like a needy dick. 

"A cute one?" His mum cut in to his anxious thoughts, smiling against the top of her coffee mug with a wink, and Phil shook his head. 

"I'm actually not going to talk about this with you," he said dismissively. "I should actually be getting to school, I'll see you later, love you."

He kissed her cheek, grabbed his bag and was out the door before she could say anything in return, breathing out a sigh of relief when he was a safe distance away. 

It wasn't that he minded telling them certain things, but he wasn't used to them, well, trying to integrate themselves into it - asking questions or teasing him. He figured that was how all parents worked, adults were just on a different plane of understanding than their children, trying to comprehend but still falling short. He didn't expect them to even agree with his relationship with Dan, let alone understand it, just like they didn't agree with his band. It was futile attempt to connect with him, and only made things a little more uncomfortable. 

He was just immensely happy they didn't care about him dating guys. Heaven knows he'd been terrified when he first told them. 

Just as he was rounding the last corner that would bring him to his school, still shaking off the encounter with his mum, someone walked in front of his car, and he had to slam on the brakes so no one was hurt. He swore loudly, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. 

"I'm sorry!" The guy he'd almost killed apologized, coming over to his open window with an apologetic look and arm full of papers. "I'm really sorry, I should be paying attention, I just got distracted-"

"It's fine," Phil reassured him firmly, waving him off vaguely. "Just, you scared me, watch where you're going next time."

The stranger pushed his hair out of his face, the bronze-red strands wild in the December wind. "Okay, I'm sorry, again. I'm really fucking caught up in my head, this street isn't usually very busy, so I thought there wouldn't be any compli-cations."

"Seriously, it's fine." Phil smiled, shifting his foot back to the gas pedal. "Don't, almost get killed again today, okay?"

The stranger nodded his agreement and stepped back to let him past. 

The day hadn't even started for him, but he already had a twist in his stomach that was telling him it was far from over. 

***

In Algebra, Elliot sat down heavily in the seat next to him and tossed a sheet of paper onto his desk, a strange but excited gleam in his eyes that contradicted the tired marks under them. None of them had gotten much sleep lately, but they never asked about it. 

"What's this?" Phil asked, unable to admit he wasn't curious. The paper had only three lines printed on it: an address, a date and a time, all in small, black font. It seemed highly plain and unimportant, but Ellie seemed to be bouncing in his seat just looking at it.

"A setting," Elliot said vaguely, with an irritating smirk on his face. Phil rolled his eyes. 

"Thank you, dickface," he said sarcastically. "Could you be a little more specific? A setting for what?"

"Another gig," Elliot said with a shrug, reaching into his bag and pulling out a notebook and pen, the fake nonchalance practically bleeding from his pores.

Phil stared down at the paper again, not recognizing the address, at least, not off the top of his head. "Really?" He asked. "Where at?" The date was next Saturday at 9p.m., a time he could manage. It wasn't like he has anything else planned for the weekend. 

"A university," Elliot said, scribbling on his paper idly. "Some local one, I can't remember the name of it. But there's some kind of party going on, and they want us to play it. Said they heard us at The Blue Room, obviously they liked us." Phil groaned at that, and Elliot knew exactly why. "Aw, come one, parties aren't that bad."

Phil snorted. "Yeah fucking right, high school parties are bad enough. Imagine the damage a college one can cause. There's gonna be, drugs and liquor and horny adults."

"Well, it's not like we're gonna stay and join them." Ellie said, and Phil shot him a withering look that made him backtrack. "Okay, well, no promises on Chris or Grayson's behalf, but I can keep myself under control. Besides, I have a girlfriend now." He said that like it was the Holy Grail of excuses and would immediately make him trustworthy. Phil doubted it. 

He didn't think he'd ever even seen a university in real life, let alone been inside one while there was music and booze flowing. It was a good opportunity for them, to spread their sound in as many different scenes as possible. The Blue Room had been an experience, but this was a different level of playing, and it was unlikely they wouldn't take it. Despite the funk they'd been in recently; hell, they needed the practice, if anything. 

"'Kay, I'll do it," Phil said, ignoring Elliot's fist pump of excitement. "But if better not be left on my own the whole time while you all make every bad decision there is."

"Of course not, me and you will be stuck at the waist, promise," Elliot said, but Phil didn't take those words to heart. "Okay, so Chris says were gonna have to practice beforehand, like, a lot and he wanted..."

Phil zoned out at the point, staring blankly at the paper and less than enthusiastic about Chris's new labor regime for them before the show. He'd focus on that when the time came, but right now, he had other things in his mind. 

He was actually nervous about this. Truth be told, he didn't know what to expect. Playing for their school, for other parties, seemed a much easier deal, because he knew what he was getting into. He knew what those kids liked and how they would react, and he knew what to do if things went south. But this was new territory. These were college kids, older and more experienced than all four of them put together. 

Sure, they were all gonna be drunk, and they honestly weren't too far off from any other high schooler, but it was still scary. The Blue Room has been terrifying, but that was a much more controlled environment, and he hasn't felt unsafe or anything. There was just no telling what would happen this time. 

The bell rang then, cutting off Elliot and his raving about this 'all new level of awesomeness us puny wannabes' and signaling the start of the lesson. 

Phil was a fairly good student, if he had to say. And by fairly, he was barely getting by with passing grades. Physics was a torture beyond explanation, so he didn't really count his failing grade in that, but all of his other classes he managed at least decent marks. 

He just had a short attention span, and the tendency to drift off at the wrong moment. And the overall lack of participation that kept him from catching up on any missed work or studying too hard for tests. 

And he was smart, just not in an explicitly academic way. He didn't think knowing random animal facts and having memorized the entire first four pages of the third Harry Potter book were considered genius level. 

He got by, and that was all that mattered. 

So it wasn't too much of a surprise when his professor handed him back a quiz from last week with a large '62%' written across the top in red ink. He bit his lip and stared at it in dismay before folding it and stuff in it into his binder. 

With everything that had been happening, with Grayson and Chris and Dan and even PJ, he hadn't even realized there would be a quiz, so he obviously hadn't studied. At least he hasn't completely bombed it, but he could have done better. He spent that period taking studious notes in the attempt to make it look like he was trying, no matter the fact that this attempt would likely be abandoned by tomorrow. 

***

The end of the day couldn't come fast enough, and Phil dragged himself through all of his classes using the least amount of energy as possible to do so. But even when the final bell rang and he was free from that purgatory of peers and teachers, he wasn't completely free. 

His father needed his help at the restaurant today because they were short staffed and this was one of their busiest days. And while Phil normally didn't hate working, today he just wasn't as into it as usual. The customers he usually found interesting socially were grating on his nerves, and the heat from the kitchens was almost unbearable. His feet were bound to be swollen from moving so much, more than he was used to, and he had already acquired three burns on his arms from getting too close to the stovetop. 

At least he was allowed a break, despite not actually working there on regular hours. Of course, the joy and sheer relief of getting off his feet was immediately dispelled when his father sidled up beside him in the back of the restaurant and began talking. 

"So," he started slowly, his hands twisting in front him. "Your mother tells me you have a...thing. With a guy."

Phil laid his head in his hands and sighed deeply. "Jeez, dad, is it just you guys' dream to live vicariously through my every moment in life?"

His dad shrugged. "Hey, I know you didn't ask to be put into this world, but parents get curious. About everything. Even your sex life."

"Okay, wow," Phil said, standing up and heading for the door, "I'm actually leaving right now, cutting my break short-"

"Okay, okay," his dad grabbed his arm gently, preventing him from leaving. "I'll stop being Cringe Dad for a moment, I do want to talk with you, though."

"Promise you want ask about my sex life?"

"Not directly." Phil huffed, but crossed his arms and stayed where he was. His dad mimicked him, and leaned against the wall beside him. "So it's not a serious thing?"

That's what he had told his mum, but right now, he couldn't lie like that. He shrugged, and ran a hand through his hair, which was starting to stick up in random places from the heat. "I mean...I don't really know, it's--it's complicated." Not technically a lie. "We've been something for a little while but, right now, I don't know for sure."

"And you're being safe?"

Phil prayed for his soul and scowled. "Jesus, yes, I am, promise."

His dad nodded. "Okay, then I guess you're fine. Just, be cautious, yeah? I don't want you to get hurt or something."

Phil smiled wanly. "You're not worried about me breaking someone else's heart?"

"Well, I don't even know this other guy, do I?" He responded reasonably. "No use in stressing over a complete stranger, is there."

And just like that, the conversation was over. He's expected a bit more interrogation or telling off, but his dad simply winked at him and left him alone once again, going back to work. 

Phil sat there for much longer than intended, wondering why he felt a hell of a lot more guilty than he ever had before. It wasn't like he didn't know that his parents didn't know about Dan. Hell, he'd been trying his hardest to keep it from them for a year, and barely succeeding. 

Maybe it was the fact that they had voiced it aloud, that they were absolutely clueless and that it was all Phil's fault. He had that power in his hands, to tell them everything or not. 

It was his move now, and he had no fucking clue what to do.


	13. The Sharpest Lives

"So you and Chris are the ones who started the band?" Audrey asked, leaning forwards across the table curiously. She had to speak loudly to be heard over the crowd that packed the food court, hundreds of conversations going on all at once. Phil shrugged from where he was sitting across from her. 

"I mean, we were the first ones in it, yeah," he said, tapping his fingers against the table habitually. "Didn't really think of it as much of a band until Grayson joined."

He didn't know exactly how, but he'd ended up spending the afternoon third-wheeling with Audrey and Elliot at the mall. It was surprising, because he usually didn't like going to the mall at any given time, and he definitely didn't like watching his friend suck face with a girl in various shops, but he had nothing more entertaining to spend his time with. 

And Audrey was really fucking interesting, despite all the jealousy-fueled spite that Gray held against her. Honestly, Phil had at first thought she was one of those groupies, who dated one of the band members just to get into concerts for free or whatever, but she was much more intelligent and open-minded than that. Which was a very good thing, in his opinion. She actually liked Elliot for him, unlike some of his past flings, and her love for their music was just a bonus. 

"Grayson's the lead singer, right?" She asked. Phil hoped she never found out about Gray's blinded animosity towards her, because it would be really awkward for everyone. "He's really good, I love his vocal range, it's a fucking godsend."

Phil laughed and nodded; everyone loved Grayson's voice, it was sort of inevitable.

"Flirting with my girlfriend behind my back?"

Elliot sat next to Audrey with a mock angry glare at Phil that made him roll his eyes. They were cute together, but sometimes it was disgusting. 

The couple started their own conversation, leaving Phil to his own devices, which was slightly counter-productive; they'd invited him, and now he was being ignored. Not that he minded, being in the middle of their vomit-worthy escapades sounded less than appealing. 

They seemed pretty happy together, though they'd only been dating for a few weeks now. He sure as hell hoped him and Dan had never been this 'cuddly', but they genuinely liked each other, and that was good. Phil was glad at least one of his friends was happy.

After another few minutes of watching them canoodle so publicly and voraciously, Phil decided it would be better to leave them on their own. He liked hanging out with them, but there was only so much he could handle in one hour. They didn't protest his leaving. 

He thought that would be the most eventful part of his day, but no such luck. 

Dan was sitting on his front steps when he got home, curled in on himself in an effort to not get soaked by the rain, which was steadily getting worse. The hoodie he was wearing was already spotted with water, but it didn't seem to bother him much. He looked up at the sound of Phil's car door slamming, and stood to go and meet him. 

"Hey," Phil said, not exactly sure why he's here, but not questioning it too much. Sure, it had been a short while since they'd seen each other, and maybe they're last encounter wasn't so friendly, but Phil was ready to move past it, and he was hoping that Dan was too. "You'll catch a cold or something, standing out in the rain like this."

Dan nodded with a strained smile. "Yeah, I just...you weren't here, so I waited. I wanted to talk to you."

"Okay," Phil moved past him, hoping to get out of the cold rain, at least. "You wanna come inside? Dry off and we can-"

"No, I think, um," Dan interrupted him, and stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. "I think it'd be better if we stayed out here."

Phil turned back to face him. Not that he didn't want to talk with him, he just didn't think this was the best setting for it. But Dan looked dead set on standing in the middle of his driveway and having this conversation. "Is everything alright?"

"I don't know," Dan said, staring down at his feet resolutely. "I've been thinking. About...a lot of things, but mostly about us." And God, that didn't sound concerning at all.

It started raining then, like some fucking greater omen from above that was saying this wasn't going to be a good conversation. Phil felt his chest tighten just the smallest bit, preparing for whatever it was that was coming. 

"I think we should take a break."

There it was.

"A break, like..." Phil trailed off, but couldn't find a way to finish that sentence. There was only one you could finish that sentence, and it wasn't something he wanted to face right now, God please, not right now. 

Dan looked up at him, his face an unreadable mask of indifference that made Phil sick. "A break like, between us. For a while. Until we-"

"No," Phil shook his head. "No, I thought we were okay, I thought...you were gonna give me some time."

"It's not about that," Dan said sadly, like Phil was being desperate and clingy, and hell maybe he was, but he had a reason. He didn't want to lose this. "Phil, you know things haven't been great between us recently. We've been fighting, and ignoring each other-"

"And I'm sorry, but," Phil ran a hand through his hair, "don't do this because of that. We can fix it, we always do."

"No, and that's the point. We don't ever fix it," Dan said exasperatedly. "We ignore it, and we kiss and make up, but it doesn't go away. And every time it happens, every time we fight or get angry with each other, it just adds on to whatever bullshit was happening before. And it's too much for us to handle now, and I can't do this anymore. I won't let you distract me and keep me from being happy."

"You weren't happy before?"

"God, Phil, don't make me say it." And finally, Phil sees him break down, tears trekking down his cheeks and mixing with the rain that's already there. He dragged his hand across his face. "I'm sorry I can't give you what you want with us, but...I need to think about myself too, you know?"

And yeah, he did know, but that didn't make it any easier for him to deal with. "So what now?"

Dan laughed once, but there's no humor in it. "Now, I think I should leave, before things get too awkward." 

He gave Phil one last sympathetic look before walking past him towards the road, where his car was parked. Phil didn't turn to watch him leave, because his chest was still aching, like someone had punched a hole through it, and that would probably make it worse. He heads to front door of his house, ready to crawl into bed immediately. All of his energy had suddenly disappeared. 

"Phil," Dan said from behind him, and he couldn't resist turning around at his voice. He's standing there, uncaring of the rain that's soaking him thoroughly now, and staring at him. "This isn't forever, okay? We can...maybe one day, we can start over again. And not make the mistakes we did this time."

And all Phil could do was nod. Maybe they can. 

***

He was sweaty and tired, and being jostled constantly in the crush of drunk college students was definitely not doing him any good. 

They'd just finished their set, an entire hour of screaming into their microphones at the ballistic crowd who screamed back at them. They seemed to enjoy it, which was good, but also not very liable since most of them were completely out of it. Phil was tempted on heading there himself. 

He'd had barely a day to recover from the atomic bomb that Dan had handed to him on Friday. Chris had been snapping at him about not focusing, but how was he supposed to? He had much bigger problems then they could understand, ones he would much rather deal with then practice for hours in that stuffy room with Chris's blind irritation and Grayson's endless moping and Elliot's hopeless heartsick drawling. 

He shoved his way through a group of students, ignoring their calls of his rudeness, and headed to where the drinks were being poured. 

He didn't drink. In all his life, he'd probably had a estimated total of one beer, all added up from the small sips he'd taken at parties. He didn't like getting drunk, didn't like the dissociated feeling it left him with, and he absolutely hated being hungover. But right now, he could use a distraction, to clear his head from the crazy mess that was raging like a storm. He'd deal with the consequences of it later. 

"Wow, this is a new low for you, isn't it?"

Phil scowled at Elliot over the rim of his cup, wincing at the bitter taste of the beer, but swallowing it anyway. "What do you want?"

"Told you I wouldn't leave your side, didn't I?" Elliot shrugged. "No idea where Chris and Gray went, but I don't think I really want to know. Figured you'd be bored and lonely by yourself."

"I'm not really in the mood for company right now," he said. They'd started playing music, most likely from someone's phone, and it was starting to give him a headache. Or maybe that was just the alcohol, he wasn't exactly a heavyweight drinker.

"You don't look in the mood for anything," Elliot said unhelpfully. "Since when did you start drinking?"

"Since right now."

"Mhmm," Elliot grabbed the cup from his hand, took a sip, and handed it back. "Must have been some serious shit. Wanna talk about it?"

Phil laughed humorlessly. "Not particularly, no."

Elliot didn't know about him and Dan. Phil didn't think he'd actually care that much anyway; at this point, he was starting to realize that Chris was the only one who'd care about him dating Dan Howell, and it was entirely too late to do anything about that. But it wouldn't be much help telling Ellie all his problems now, would it?

"Suppressing it like that isn't gonna make it go away," Elliot continued to badger him. "I can-"

"I'm seriously fine," Phil scowled, pushing away from the counter he'd been leaning on. "And I don't want to talk about it."

He pushed his way back through the crowd, despite the heat that made his clothes stick to his skin and the occasional elbow that got thrown into his stomach. He'd take anything to avoid that uncomfortable moment with his band mate.

Five minutes later, he realized his cup was now empty, despite him not being able to recollect the memory of actually drinking it. But he shrugged it off and went to get another. Elliot was gratefully absent from the counter. 

He was in the middle of an intense discussion with a group of Physics majors about the actual purpose of a selfie stick when he suddenly got a bit too lightheaded. He'd been leaning against a wall, but when he stood up straight, he almost fell on his face. Someone grabbed his bicep to keep him steady, and he tried to say thanks, but it most likely came out as incoherent yelling. He was much too hot now, he needed to get out of here. 

It was a difficult feat, but he managed to find the door that led outside, and cold night air was like redemption after a long life of sinning. He stood and breathed in deeply for a moment, before deciding to just sit, leaning his back against the brick wall of the building he'd just left. 

There weren't many people out here. It was a lot more quiet; he could hear the heavy thump of the music coming from inside and the hundreds of people all packed together, but it was muffled. 

"Shit," he muttered to himself, rubbing his face roughly. He didn't feel so hot, but he was numb. That had been the goal. 

And then suddenly, there was another warm body pressed against his side, and Grayson was laying his head across Phil's lap. "You're a hard motherfucker to find, you know that?" He said, his voice slurred to point that Phil almost didn't understand what he'd said. 

"And why are you trying to find me?"

Gray sighed loudly. "Cause Chris is a fucking monarch, and Elliot's...well, he's Elliot. Don't feel like spending quality time with them, you know?"

He knew. 

They sat like that for a while, saying nothing and not feeling bad about it. It wasn't awkward, it was actually quite comfortable. 

"So, what's up with you?" Grayson asked, breaking the quiet between them rudely. Phil frowned. "Everyone's noticed it, man, you're the downer at this party. What, you and Howell having trouble in paradise?"

Phil hesitated. He hadn't voiced it out loud, even to himself, too scared to face the entire reality of the situation. But Elliot had been right before. He couldn't suppress it forever. "We broke up." 

"Shit, that's..." Grayson said. "I'm sorry, that's really bad."

"Not your fault," Phil said, and shrugged. "It was long time coming, I suppose. We had...problems. I mean, you can't be in a secret relationship without problems. We had a lot."

"You know what?" Grayson declared, a defiant expression crossing his face that nearly made Phil start laughing. "Guys suck."

Phil did laugh that time, a raw, urgent sound that made his throat hurt. "Isn't that, like, indirectly shading yourself?"

Grayson thought about it for a second. "You know what I mean, like...guys you fall in love with. And they never know; or they do, and everything just falls apart in the worst way possible. They break your heart, whether on purpose or accidentally. They suck." Phil couldn't argue with that. Grayson sighed again. "God, I'm so drunk."

"That makes two of us," Phil said amusedly. He shook his leg, and Grayson grumbled at him. "Get off, you're making my thighs fall asleep."

Grayson sat up reluctantly and looked over at him. They were sitting close enough where it was almost uncomfortable, but neither moved. "You're a good friend, Phil."

Phil opened his mouth to reply, but was cut off by Grayson's lips pressed against his. 

It wasn't neat. It wasn't soft or kind or even chaste. Grayson kissed him with everything he had, it was almost angry. Their teeth clashed and Phil bit Gray's bottom lip harshly, reaching up and tangling his fingers into his hair tightly. 

Almost as soon as it happened, it was over. Gray pulled away sharply, staring at him with wide, unfocused eyes. Phil imagined he looked the same. 

"That was unplanned," Grayson breathed out. "Sorry, that...that was emotional heat of the moment, I didn't mean to."

"It's fine," Phil said, shaking his head. "It's fine, I mean, we're both single, hormone-driven males. It happens sometimes."

Grayson nodded. "Yeah, it happens sometimes," he said. Paused. "Like right now?"

"Like right now," Phil agreed. Grayson clumsily straddled his lap and kissed him again.


	14. Disloyal Order Of Water Buffaloes

So maybe he could distract himself.

As fucking cold hearted and manipulative as it was, this was his solution; using one of his best friends as some -- some degrading toy that only stopped the tear in his heart for a little while. Did that make him an asshole? Definitely. Was that enough to make him stop doing it? Not a chance. 

And it's not like Grayson minded it. Fuck, half the time, he was the one initiating it, and maybe that was because he was a messed up cesspool of depravity and emotional damage, but it still counted. 

They were using each other, a mutual agreement of fucking up everything. 

It was such a surreal experience sometimes; Phil had never thought of Gray as someone he'd be attracted to in any way, they'd been friends for so long, it had seemed sort of sickening. But this, God, this was a whole new level of desperate, because they would be talking, mediocre conversations that served no other purpose than to pass the time, and then he'd glance over, and Gray would give him this look, like -- he didn't fucking know, but it was enough to lower his already shattered inhibitions. 

So what was he supposed to do? Mourn and grovel like a little kid because he couldn't have what he really wanted? What the fuck was that going to do, for anyone? Goddamn nothing. 

No, this...this was easier.

It was easier to drown the screaming protests in his head with hollow touches and meaningless kisses, easier to tell himself that this was satisfactory. Dealing with the whole mess, talking about it, that was so off limits, effort he didn't have the energy to muster up. 

A distraction. Just what he needs. 

***

Holden Napier was an overachieving know-it-all, with no filter from his brain to his mouth, and way too much time on his hands. He was not the kind of guy that Phil would include on his list of people he was even close to cordial with, let alone a 'friend'. They just ran in different circles. 

So it was not his idea of fun, suddenly spending so much time with the guy. 

Not by choice, of course, he wouldn't willingly hang out with someone he barely knew and didn't quite like. No, he'd been forced into this by his boring Physics teacher. 

He was falling behind in the class, that was for sure, but tutoring? Who the fuck got tutored anymore? Well apparently, Phil Lester did, and unhappily so. And apparently, Holden was the best guy for the job. And apparently, him and Grayson hated each other's guts. 

"What the fuck?" Were the first words out of Gray's mouth when he showed up at Phil's locker, with Holden standing beside him. The glaring match that immediately ensued between them was enough to make even Phil nervous. "Why is this here?"

"Could ask the same for you," Holden fired back. "Thought you would be more busy in some bathroom by now, on your knees for whatever guy happened to show you some interest."

Grayson launched himself at Holden, and Phil had to grab his arm to keep him from attacking. "Whoa, hey," Phil said firmly. "Can we please hold off on the homicide right now? I am not being held responsible for one of you ripping the others throat out."

They both huffed indignantly, but put their death wishes on hold, albeit reluctantly. Phil sighed; this was not going to be easy. 

He was supposed to be giving Gray a ride home, and maybe that was their pathetic coverup for what was much more likely to happen, but it seemed it was out of the question now. No way where they all going to survive the ten minute drive in Phil's much too small car. So Grayson waved him goodbye, flipped Holden off, and headed towards the front doors by himself. 

"Can't believe you're friends with that prick," Holden muttered darkly, hefting his bag higher up on his shoulder as they pushed their way through the crowds of students in the hall. 

"Shut up," Phil said wearily. He wasn't going to argue with this guy, he wasn't in the fucking mood. 

They were almost to the door, eight steps away from freedom from this acidic hellhole, and Phil looked up from his feet for three seconds only to become face to face with Dan. 

Well, not technically 'face to face', they were on opposite sides of the hallway, but all the good that did for the sudden punch to his lungs. He couldn't breathe, he could feel that, but his legs kept moving like the rest of his body wasn't getting the memo. 

And they just stared. No more secret smiles or suggestive looks, no silent conversations, just staring at each other, and it was pitiful how much even that meant to him. At least he was being acknowledged. 

Dan's gaze flicked to Holden, who was still grumbling incoherently under his breath, and his eyebrows drew together. Like the idea of seeing Phil with other people was foreign, and no, Phil was imagining the flash of guilt in his eyes, they weren't close enough for him to be able to see that. 

And then the moment was obliterated, and Phil was out of the building with only the memory of it left. God, all he fucking had were memories. 

***

"Your feet are fucking freezing," Grayson hissed, shoving at Phil's legs insistently with his own. Phil laughed and pressed in closer, dragging his feet against Gray's calves teasingly. "Fuck you."

"Not my fault you're hogging all the blankets, you big baby," Phil complained in return. 

"If I'm a baby, does that mean you're my daddy?"

"Mm, if you want." Phil smirked and leaned up on his elbow, reaching out dragging his fingers across Gray's chest. "And you've been a real naughty boy-"

"You sound disgusting," Grayson laughed, shoving his hand away. "I hate you."

"You weren't saying that ten minutes ago," Phil said, leaning over him until their noses brushed, mouths aligned and barely an inch apart. "In fact, I seem to recall you shouting some high and mighty praised about my lips on your-"

"That's because," Grayson breathed out shallowly, "I was out of my right mind. Your mouth is very distracting."

"I'll bet," Phil muttered, before pressing their lips together. 

And they've gotten a lot better at this, with each other. It was awkward and clumsy at first, and they didn't know each other, didn't know what they liked, but they're learning. Practice makes perfect. 

It's a slow kiss, lacking the usual rushing heat that had earlier, but still deep and warm. Grayson is a good kisser, not that Phil had ever thought otherwise, but it's different being on the receiving end. 

This is supposed to be his distraction, to keep him from thinking about every shitty thing he's been through lately, but sometimes, oh god sometimes, it doesn't work. Sometimes, it does nothing but make him even more scared and worried about everything, and this...this is one of those times. 

Gray noticed, of course he did, and pulled away slowly, giving him a concerned look. He doesn't fucking need concern, he needs to stop thinking, please, let him stop thinking. "You okay?"

"Fine," Phil responded automatically, and goes to kiss him again, but goddammit, he's stopped again. "Shit, I'm not here to have a heartfelt conversation with you, Gray."

Grayson's eyes narrow to dangerous slits. "Yeah, you're just here to fuck me, right?"

"I didn't-"

"We're still friends, Phil, or have you forgotten that?" Grayson continues, shoving himself backwards, away from Phil. "You can tell me what's wrong, because I know something is." Phil rakes his fingers through his hair roughly, staring down at the blanket that's covering him from the waist down, annoyed. Like this whole mess is its fault. "Is it about Dan?"

"Of course it is," Phil muttered grimly. "And other stuff too, but...but he was one of the good parts of all the craziness. And now he's gone, because I didn't know how to make him happy. He wasn't happy, Gray."

The easy, playful mood from before had long disappeared, leaving a heavy dread in its wake. 

"You guys were good together," Grayson said, and they can both tell he's making weak excuses. 

"God, no we weren't." Phil almost laughed, thinking back on every moment they shared and how he had always thought they were good, but they weren't. "We were the biggest fucking mess, and we had no idea until it was too late to fix it. We tried keeping it together, and failed miserably. Probably best, he deserves someone better. A guy like that? I'm nowhere near good enough."

"Don't say that," Gray said. "Both of you made stupid mistakes, that's true, but that doesn't mean you couldn't fix them."

"I just never wanted to," Phil admitted softly, a gentle reminder that he is such a bad person. He is. "I was much more comfortable hiding and lying than being with him, like he wanted."

Such a stupid idea, he thinks, being in a secret relationship, especially for that fucking long. Like nothing bad would happen, like they could live happily ever after like that. One of them would get restless and angry and sad, and things would fall apart so fast, it would leave them both standing in the wrecks of what they had created, wondering where the hell they'd went wrong. That's where they were now. 

"Then maybe he should have told you that."

"He did, he really did," Phil said, shaking his head. "Maybe I didn't know it at that time, but he told me, and I didn't listen." All those vague and tense conversations they'd had, and Phil had never known the true meaning behind them. 

'Why do you think people lie about certain things?'

'I wish you could meet my family, I bet they'd love you'

'I wish we spent more time together'

'I wish they knew'

I wish, I wish, I wish, but it was too fucking late for wishing now, wasn't it? Too late for them to become good. 

"You miss him," Grayson said, and Phil could do nothing but nod in agreement to that. "So tell him."

"Fuck, it's not that easy, I mean," Phil rubs his eyes. "We need this break, we do. I need to sort my shit out, and he needs to decide if this, if we're worth giving another chance. I need to show him that it is worth it."

"Okay." Grayson climbs off of the bed, grabbing his clothes from where they are laying scattered across the floor, and beginning to dress again. Phil watches him silently, slightly glad to be left alone again. "I'll see you later, and...I hope you two work it out. God knows we need at least one happy ending."

Just before he heads out, Phil calls his name and he turns around again. "You should talk to Elliot," he said carefully, and before Gray can protest, he cuts him off. "Just, please. He's freaking out about you ignoring him. And if you can give me that advice, you should be able to follow it, too."

Grayson nods, but looks a bit sick at the thought. And then he's gone, and Phil...

Well, Phil is a mess, but that's nothing new.


	15. Gold Medal Ribbon

"Whose mouth gave you that?" Chris said obnoxiously, smirking as Phil immediately moved to cover the hickey that was most likely standing out against the pale skin of his neck. Damn Grayson and his enthusiastic teeth. 

"Shut up," Phil grumbled, staring determinedly down at his notebook. "It's not like I'm a monk, I'm allowed to kiss other people."

Chris raised his hands in mock surrender. "Wasn't implying that. I just haven't seen you even look at other people in the last few months, let alone 'kiss' them."

Phil scoffed and didn't reply, but Chris kept talking, ignoring the glare he received in turn. 

"I mean, you and Gray do seem pretty close lately..."

Okay, so maybe he froze at that, and maybe that gave him away. No one was supposed to know. It wasn't like they weren't hiding it, they just weren't...actively telling anybody about it. 

"Oh shit," Chris said, smiling like he owned the world. "I fucking knew it, you filthy bastard."

"Fuck off, it's not that serious."

"How long?" He asked, leaning across the table curiously. They'd been sitting in the library in companionable silence, and now Phil was being interrogated within an inch of his life. "Oh jeez, don't tell me you two have been fucking this whole time. That would seriously downgrade my observation skills."

"Mind your own business," Phil said, throwing his pen across the table at his friend. "It doesn't concern you, so leave it alone."

"I think it does. I mean, finding out two of my best friends have been getting physical with each other for god knows how long?"

"Oh yeah, you wanna talk about friends getting physical? What about you and Elliot?" He was sure that was a low blow, but it wasn't like he'd been forbidden to talk about it. 

Chris raised an eyebrow but didn't seem too offended by the accusation. "How do you know about that?" So apparently he hadn't forgotten about it. 

But the answer arrived before Phil could say, Elliot dropping down in the seat next to him tiredly. "I'm ready for death," he announced, but paused when he realized that the both of them were staring at him. "What?"

"You told him?" Chris asked. It took Elliot a few seconds to realize what he was talking about, and then he turned to stare at Phil. 

"You told him that I told you?"

"Well, I'm out," Phil said, smiling as he stood and gathered his stuff, heading for the exit. "Don't have too much fun, you two."

He ignored the sounds of protest from behind him, swinging the doors open and stepping out into the hallway.

The day was almost over, to his utter relief; any longer, and he'd be at the end of his mental capability. He only had Physics left, but his teacher had come up with the fine idea of spending the next few lessons getting caught up with all the material he didn't understand. So instead of wasting away in the back of the classroom, he was having 'independent study time' with Holden. Fun.

"You're late," Holden said as soon as Phil walked into the empty classroom, running hand through his dark red hair in irritation. "I'm not wasting my time doing this if you aren't gonna take it seriously." He didn't know if this guy actually hated him, or if it was just because of his friendship with Grayson. 

"Well, firstly, I don't take this seriously," Phil snapped back at him, dropping his things on the table unceremoniously. "And you're required to be here, too, so it's not like you can just leave."

Holden scowled but didn't give a reply, slamming open the textbook. "Whatever. It's not my fault you don't understand any of this. I mean, really, you don't know the difference between kinetic and potential energy?"

Phil felt the tips is his ears go red at that. So what if he was a little bit behind the rest of the class. Or the rest of the grade. It wasn't his fault, he just had a seriously short attention span, in specifically that class.

Holden sighed and started lecturing him on the subject, but he wasn't listening. And yeah, maybe that was just he was here in the first place, but he would catch up. He would. 

Instead, he thought about his friends. 

Everything was messy with them. It was confusing sometimes, having to keep up with all the details, but Phil knew their whole dynamic was thrown off course because of all these new secrets coming to light. Grayson and Elliot and Chris and Phil...Heinous, four fucked up kids who didn't know how to deal with their personal shit. It was catchy. 

One thing was completely certain, though; they needed to clean it all up before FTC came around, or they would definitely not make it very far. And this was what they needed, if they really wanted to make a career out of their music. 

He was delving into darker territory, thinking of how fast they would spiral downwards if things went badly between them, when he heard Holden say Dan's name. Or, hiss it actually, like it disgusted him. 

"...Howell to do this. I bet you'd be more attentive then."

Phil looked over at him quickly. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Oh, so that catches your attention." Holden rolled his eyes. "And you guys aren't as secretive as you think you're being, trust me. Everyone knows how 'close' you two are."

Fuck. If that was true, then....this whole thing had been for nothing. Still, none of their band mates had ever called them out on it, so either they didn't know or they were fucking great actors. 

Phil shook his head dismissively. "Yeah well. We're not exactly...'close' anymore, so." Was it pathetic that those words still hurt him?

But Holden seemed to not sense his bad mood, and snorted. "Really? The way you two eye-fuck each other in the halls tells me otherwise." 

"We don't..." Phil tried to protest, but lost momentum. It was true, at least, on his part. "That doesn't mean anything."

Holden shrugged and went back to his textbook. "Doesn't matter to me. I personally always thought he was a bit of a slut--"

"Don't fucking talk about him like that." Maybe it was uncalled for, snapping at him like that, but the whole topic was sensitive for him. And, well, Holden wasn't exactly doing anything to help it, in any way. "I'm sorry," he sighed, burying his face in his hands. "I didn't mean to--"

"It's fine," Holden interrupted. "I crossed a line, it was my fault." And yeah, it was, but that didn't make Phil feel any less horrible. 

They didn't say anything about it after that, and by the time the bell rang at the end of the period, they has grown accustomed to their companionable silence. They weren't the best of friends, but Phil felt a lot more at ease around him than before. 

The halls were crowded with students, and Phil struggled to his locker, trying to avoid being shoved to the floor. Just as he reached it, he was suddenly confronted with a ruffled looking Elliot. 

"Shit, are you crazy?" He said immediately, leaning against the wall like he didn't have the energy to stand. "Why would you tell Chris about that? He's been interrogating me for the last hour, asking about it, and it's...it's not a moment I'm very proud of, you know?"

"Sorry," Phil said, shutting the locker door. "I, I don't think it was that big a deal." They started walking together, towards the front doors. Elliot sighed. 

"It's really not, but." He shook his head. "I was much more content to just forget about it."

Phil shrugged. "Hey, I mean, maybe it's a good thing. No, just hear me out." Elliot had given him a reluctant look. "I think you two should talk about it you, yeah? Figure everything out, and put it behind you, like regular people."

Elliot scowled. "Yeah, whatever, that's just an excuse to make up for the fact that you ratted me out."

"I'm sorry!" Phil said, laughing. "He was nosing into my personal business, asking about me and--" he cut himself off before he could reveal any other secrets. 

"What, about you and Grayson?"

"Holy fuck, does everyone know?"

"Please," Elliot said. "The looks he gives you across the room? Not very subtle."

Phil flushed and shoved Elliot. "I fucking hate all of you, jeez."

"Love you too," Elliot said, throwing an arm around his shoulders. "Hey, can I get a ride home?"

Phil shook his head. "Can't, don't have my car. No idea what's wrong with it, I need to get it checked out."

"You're useless to me," Elliot said, and Phil flipped him off. 

"Hey." Phil stopped at the sight of Grayson, standing in front of them, looking as if he'd rather be anywhere else. Elliot looked just as uncomfortable, and Phil rolled his eyes at the both of them. 

"I'll see you guys later," he said with a smirk, before turning and heading out of the building, into the biting cold. 

It was quite possibly the worst time to have his car out of commission. The snow was starting to stick to the ground, and Phil had to hunch down in his coat to induce any semblance of warmth. But it didn't make the twenty minute walk any shorter.  He had just rounded a corner, shoving his bare hands into his pockets, when he saw Dan. 

Being shoved against the wall by PJ Liguori, their lips locked.


	16. But It's Better If You Do

If there was one good thing that had come from the shitstorm he'd been through lately, it was that Grayson and Elliot had managed to shakily repair their friendship. Or, they were talking to each other again, at least. And it was good, Phil was glad they had stopped being so stupid and made up, but it also meant that Gray was once again more busy being googly-eyed about his crush than most everything else.

So now he was truly by himself. Well, him and his bitter thoughts. 

He didn't want to think about Dan and PJ, and told himself constantly not to, but that only served to make him think of it more. They sure as hell kissed dirty, no imagining what else they were capable of. They probably fucked like animals. 

But that didn't mean he himself was any different. He'd done the exact same thing, with Grayson, but he never did it so...publicly. And never around Dan, fuck; that would make him nothing but a petty dick. 

He was sitting in the cafeteria, surrounded by his band mates plus Audrey but paying them no attention as he glared across the room where Dan was sitting much too close to PJ, smiling at him as he talked. They would make a great fucking couple, wouldn't they? And they wouldn't have to hide it, wouldn't fight about it every goddamn day and make a mess of everything. 

And he just wasn't in a bad enough mood, was he, or maybe karma really was a fucking bitch, because he had to sit there and watch them kiss and smile at each other like stupid fucking honeymooners, and he could do nothing about it. 

He wasn't a memorable guy, he supposed. 

"Why do we hate them?" Phil asked, biting the words out through his clenched teeth, looking over at Chris sharply. "TCE; why are they our sworn enemies or whatever?"

Chris gave him a blank look, obviously caught off guard by the question, but shrugged and looked back down at his tray. "Does it matter?"

The tension that suddenly appeared around them was thick enough to suffocate him, but he didn't care. Grayson and Elliot were giving him looks, telling him to back off, but why should he? Almost two years now, he'd been told to hate this other band, for no valid reason, and whenever he asked about it, he was shut down. He just wanted things to make sense, because he was starting to go crazy. 

"Yeah, it does," Phil said. "I'm not gonna sit here and conform to this monarchy you call a band. I don't have a reason to hate them; so what's stopping me from just going over there and talking to them? Besides you."

"Nothing," Chris said, just as sharply; he could see the anger rising in his expression. "Unless you want to stay in this band--"

"You would seriously cut me out just for talking to them?" Phil asked in disbelief. "You're a fucking psycho, do you know that? Why do you care so much about them, do you get off on it or something? Treating them like they're the worst thing that's ever happened to you?"

"Shut up--"

"You sound so pathetic sometimes, ranting and raving about them all the time, like you don't have a life besides downgrading them--"

"Shut up!" The entire table went silent, and even a few people at the table next to them paused for a second before dismissing them. It was such a stupid thing to think, but Phil felt almost victorious in making Chris this worked up about it, after avoiding the subject for so long. 

"Grow up, Chris," he said quietly, pityingly. "They've never done anything to you."

Chris looked up at him, with this broken, monotone expression, but didn't say anything. Possibly the first time in a long time that he's been rendered speechless, by anything. Then he stood slowly and left without a word, didn't even look back. 

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Elliot said, staring at Phil like he doesn't know him; hell, Phil doesn't know himself anymore either. He doesn't do that, doesn't pick fights or question people's choices in life, but he is so sick and tired of being the laid back friend who people can walk all over because they know he won't complain. That's not him. 

"What, you fucking agree with him?" Phil said, and laughed sarcastically. "You would rather go along with whatever fucked up vengeance plan he has, and never question it? Do you know how stupid that sounds?"

"Jesus Christ, Phil, maybe it is stupid, but he's our friend." Elliot said. "If he doesn't want to talk about it, then we don't push him about it, first rule of being a decent fucking human being."

Grayson nodded in agreement, and Phil scoffed at him. "Jeez, of course you're on his side, you're always on his side, right? It's ridiculous, how in love with him you are."

"Phil!" Gray stared at him, eyes wide with shock and anger, but Phil didn't fucking feel like dealing with, he didn't feel like dealing with anything, so he stood and left just like Chris, and he passed Dan and PJ and had to refrain himself from saying anything that would probably get his ass kicked by an angry guitarist. 

He didn't have anywhere to go, couldn't just walk off of school grounds without getting into serious trouble, so he decided to take his chances with hiding out in one of the bathrooms. And just his luck, right, because as soon as he opened the door, he saw Chris hunched over one of the sinks, shoulders shaking. He looked up when Phil walked in. 

"Fucking hell," he said, voice hoarse and quiet. "What, didn't say enough back there? Had to come and rip into me some more?" He's crying, and it's disarming for a second; Phil's never seen him anything but complacent or angry. He's fucked everything up, hasn't he?

"I'm sorry."

"'Sorry?'" Chris mocked him weakly. "That's all you have? Pretty anticlimactic, don't you think?"

"I'm a mess, okay?" Phil said, running both hands through his hair with a long sigh. His chest feels too small, and he can't breathe for a second but it passes, and leaves him shaking slightly. "I was just angry about nothing, and I took it out on you, and...I'm really sorry, I didn't mean any of it."

"Yes you did," Chris said in a low voice. "But I accept your apology." Phil tried to smiled at him, but it probably looked more like a grimace than anything. "You really wanna know what happened with them? Why I hate them?"

"You don't have to--" He started to decline, but Chris shook his head. Maybe he needed to get it off his chest; Phil won't deny him that. 

"A few years ago, before Heinous was even a thought, I met PJ," he started slowly. "It was only him and Dan in TCE at the time, and they would do shitty gigs at karaoke bars, but they were good. And we....it wasn't a relationship, I know it wasn't. He would call me, tell me to come over, and we'd fuck, and he'd talk to me for while, and I thought it was the best thing ever."

"You and Dan?" Phil cut in hurriedly, his stomach twisting uncomfortably. 

"What? No, jeez, me and PJ." He looked disgusted at just the thought, and it made Phil strangely content. "Would it be ironic if I said he's the reason I wanted to start a band in the first place?"

"Definitely," Phil said, both of them smiling crookedly. 

"I fell in love with him," Chris said in a shaky voice, crossing his arms over his stomach. "Such a lousy thing, I know, but it happened and it was the worst thing, I just...he made me feel a lot more important than I actually was."

He could imagine it; no matter how many times he's heard Chris bad mouth PJ, there had definitely been some underlying tension between the two that could easily be explained by a past relationship...or lack thereof. And maybe Chris hadn't handled it it very maturely, but it was justified. Phil felt so damn guilty about making him talk about it, he obviously didn't want to. 

"And when I got too clingy for his taste, he pushed me away." The words fall from his mouth like rocks, heavy and unwanted. "Called me out in the middle of the hall, told everyone I was a desperate slut who'd do anything to get my mouth on...and then he handed out my phone number, and I would get these calls and texts all. Day. Long."

"Chris..." Fuck, he didn't haven't a single thing to say to any of that. "I'm so sorry."

"Not your fault." Chris shook his head. "After that, I moped for a while, but I couldn't keep doing that. I wouldn't let him get the best of me, and especially not like that. So I asked you if you wanted to start a band with me. And I told myself I wouldn't let him get under my skin anymore. Fucking failed miserably at that, didn't I?"

He swiped a hand across his face, removing any evidence that could possibly suggest he'd been crying, and glared at Phil. "Don't fucking tell anyone about this, okay? They don't need to know any of this."

And by that, he meant Gray and Elliot. Phil nodded. He was caught off guard when Chris suddenly pressed against him, arms wrapped around him tightly and burying his face into Phil's shoulder. Phil hugged him back just as hard. They weren't the 'touchy-feely' kind of friends, so this was weird and new, but it was working. 

But that was only of the his problems fixed, and the others were proving much more difficult to even think of let alone try and solve. 

His car was still out of commission, so he was not looking forward to walking home in the cold weather, and just as he rounded the first corner, he ran into Grayson. Who immediately started tearing into him. 

"You've got to be the most selfish, mental person I've ever met, Phil Lester," he said, smiling manically and still managing to sound like he was ready to tear his throat out with his bare hands. "What the fuck gave you any indication that that was okay? That was humiliating, and you just left me there to deal with it."

"Gray--"

"God, shut the fuck up." He did, knowing damn well not to argue with him right now. "And I was so right, he-- he won't fucking look at me anymore, he left almost as soon as you did, I couldn't explain. I was just repairing thing with him, and you had to open your stupid fucking mouth."

He cut himself off, tugging his fingers through his hair and squeezing his eyes shut. 

"Grayson," he said hesitantly, but Gray didn't attack him again, so he continued. "If I could take it back, I would, I swear it. I was angry and I didn't--"

"Angry? About what, your miserable life, because Dan Howell doesn't want you anymore?" He threw his hands in the air. "Well, guess what? The solution to that problem is not to ruin other people's lives, believe it or not. You don't get to go around and fuck everyone else over because you don't get your way."

"That's not--"

"Do you know what your problem is?" Grayson doesn't let him even compete a full sentence. "You don't talk to people. You have all these people who would gladly listen to your problems, and fuck, even try and help you figure them out, but you don't ever seem to see that. You push them all down into this tiny little box in your chest, and it keeps building up and up and up, and you just explode one day."

And it's not a lie. That was his mature way of handling things, deciding not to handle them. If he pretended they didn't exist, then they didn't, and he was fine. But he wasn't, and it seemed like everyone knew that but him. Such a great time to realize it, huh?

"You're a very toxic person, Phil," Grayson said quietly, and gives him one last pitiful look before turning and walking off, leaving Phil to stand in the wasteland of his mess.


	17. What You Need

The ceiling of his room was painted in dull grays and muted whites, the rain clouds outside filtering through his window and diminishing whatever good mood could possibly have existed there in the first place.

He didn't know how long he'd been staring up at it, maybe an hour or two, but he barely noticed the time passing. He was distraught, a giant mess of guilt and self-hatred, and he was no closer to figuring out how to deal with it than he'd been before. 

Laying in his bed and moping all day was the better solution. It wouldn't solve anything, but at least he couldn't fuck things up anymore. 

"Hey."

He looked over, and Elliot was standing in his doorway, hands shoved in his pockets and looking as if he'd much rather not be here. Phil sat up slowly. 

"Hi," he said, very aware of the awkward air that was surrounding them. "What are you doing here?" He was under the impression that, as of right now, he was nobody's favorite person, and this unprompted visit was more than a surprise. 

Elliot didn't respond for a second, still hovering by the door, but after another few seconds, he moved closer and sat cautiously on the edge of Phil's bed, staring at his knees. "You seemed pretty messed up this past...well, the last couple of weeks. Thought I'd come and check on you, see if you want to talk about it." He paused. "Your front door was unlocked."

"I don't--" Phil started to deny him, but Grayson's words from yesterday resonate through him, about refusing people's help. And where that's gotten him so far. "Why? After all that shit I did..."

He could see the dark roots of Ellie's otherwise light blue hair, standing out sharply in contrast; he doesn't usually let them show, dying over it again or changing the color, but it seems he hasn't had the time lately. 

"That was pretty shitty of you," Elliot agreed, and yeah, that doesn't make him feel any better. But that's the truth, he supposes; it's not supposed to make you feel better. "But..I figured everyone else was probably blacklisting you at the moment, so you'd need someone to talk to."

It's never fucking occurred to him just how good of a friend Elliot is, to all of them. He doesn't care about what they've done, or how badly they've fucked up, and he's always on their side. 

Phil nodded, and bit his lip, and all of a sudden, he's crying and leaning over to wrap his arms around Elliot's neck, hugging him and trying not to get snot all over his shirt. This has got to be the most emotionally unstable he's ever been. 

But Elliot hugged him back, and they don't say anything for a while; Phil realized if they're gonna talk, he has to be the one to start it. 

"I just.." He started slowly, the words thick and uneven on his tongue. He's so not used to this. "I have been messed up, and I shouldn't be, it's not that big a deal. And it doesn't justify what I did, I was a total dick, and no one deserved that, I'm sorry."

"It's fine," Elliot reassured him, pushing him back to look at him. "What happened?"

Phil swiped a hand across his face. It's getting easier, he finds, telling people about Dan, and he wonders why the hell it took him so long in the first place. He tells Elliot everything, the year long relationship and how stupid he was, and how Grayson found out, and breaking up with him. 

"And now," he ran his fingers through his hair. "Jeez, now I'm just a fucking wreck and I don't know how to handle it except lashing out at anyone who tries to ask about it."

Ellie was definitely surprised, and he doesn't say anything for a long time, staring at his knees again. But that felt good, the weight on his shoulders is gone and he is so glad that at least someone knows everything, all the details and craziness he's been going through. And he's thinking about it too, but it doesn't punch a hole in his chest like it did before, doesn't leave him breathless and weak and ready to shut everyone out at a moments notice. 

Dan means a lot to him. He always has, and just because they've broken up and maybe started seeing other people, doesn't change that. It doesn't, and Phil needs to stop being so selfish all the time. 

"And what you said," Elliot said carefully, "about Grayson. Was that true?" Phil starts to think this is the real reason he came over. 

It wasn't his finest moment, quite the opposite, but it was done and he has to find a way to fix that. "Yes," he said, curling his hands over his knees. "It wasn't my place to tell you, but...it shouldn't matter. So what if he likes you, you guys are best friends."

Elliot shook his head. "It doesn't matter, I know that, it's just...being friends with you three for so long has been highly influential. I'd always thought none of you would ever look at me that way, but here I am; slept with one of you, and another turns out to have liked me for god knows how long. It's hard to wrap my head around." 

They've gotten so much more tangled and messed up than they used to be, but it's nice, in its own way. They know all about each other now, every twisted and dark secret they've kept close for years, and now it's finally put in the light, but they're learning to deal with it. Slowly but surely 

"Never would've pictured you with Dan Howell, of all people." Phil shook his head and laughed, and just like that, the somber attitude from before has vanished. He shrugged. 

"Well, now you won't have to," he said, and he doesn't think these words will ever get easier to say. "Don't know if we'll ever fix things between us."

"Aw, don't say that," Elliot tried to protest gently, but Phil shook his head, and he stopped. "Look, all I'm saying is, you shouldn't give up so easily. You obviously like him a lot, and sitting here complaining about it is a little pathetic, don't you think?"

Maybe he had a point, but Phil was less than reluctant to act on it. "And what am I supposed to do, then?" He asked thickly, clutching the sheets of his bed tightly. "He hates me, I know he does, and nothing I say could possibly change his mind about that. I fucked him over, and I can't change that."

"You didn't do anything wrong, Phil." Elliot looked at him, sympathetic and understanding, and for once it wasn't irritating. "Neither of you tried to fix it. And if you care about him as much as you say you do, then you'll try."

And yeah, that made a lot of sense. It was true, they had both made this mess, and no matter how bad Phil felt about it, it wasn't entirely his fault. Dan had wanted to change it, and he'd said that, but he had never tried to, and that was all on him. Why should Phil feel bad for not making him happy, of Dan had never attempted it either?

"They're playing a gig on Friday," Ellie continued. "TCE. You should talk to him."

Phil opened his mouth to respond, but his phone interrupted, ringing on his bedside table. He picked it up and sighed when he saw it was Holden. 

"I'm standing outside your house right now," he said when Phil answered, sounding obnoxiously bored. "You haven't been to class for two days so I brought the notes if you want them." He paused for a second and sighed loudly. "And there's also some kind of gremlin out here wanting to see you."

"You're such a fucking prick," said another voice. 

"Okay, maybe it's Grayson."

Elliot heard that part and immediately tensed up, but Phil grabbed his shirtsleeve before he could try and leave. "Okay, door's unlocked, apparently," he said, and hung up.

"I don't think I'm ready to face him just yet," Elliot said, his face a mixture surprise and fear. 

"You just said it didn't matter," Phil said. "And don't you think it'd be a bit hypocritical, telling me to face my problems while running away from yours?"

And he didn't have any time to reply because the door opened and Grayson walked in with Holden a step behind him. Everyone in the room froze, and the air became thick with all kinds of tension. Gray and Elliot stared at each other with matching expressions of horror, and Holden gave Phil a confused look. 

"You didn't tell me he was gonna be here," Grayson choked out, and he was gripping the door so tight, his knuckles turned white. 

"I didn't know you were coming by," Phil said casually. 

"I just, um--" he took a shaky breath. "I just came to apologize. For getting mad at you the other day. Not that you didn't deserve it, but it was...a pretty dick thing to do."

Phil nodded, but his throat didn't seem to be working properly; he didn't deserve friends like this, he was too much of a fuck up. 

"Well this is so sweet, honestly, my heart is just all warm and fuzzy," Holden cut in, tossing a spiral bound notebook on his bed, "but I have places to be, see you losers later." And then he was gone. 

It was almost funny, watching Gray and Elliot avoid looking at each other, but Phil, miraculously, held in his laughter. 

"I would leave to give you two some privacy," he said, "but this is kinda my room."

Elliot smiled. "Okay, yeah, uh..." He looked up at Gray. "Would you want to, come back to mine? And talk?"

"That'd probably be a good idea." They looked like two awkward teenagers that had no idea what they were doing. 

"Just think about what I said," Elliot said as he was walking out the door, looking back at Phil. "Friday. It could be your only chance."

He would have to think about it.


	18. Miracle Mile

"So why do you and Grayson hate each other?" Phil asked. He wasn't usually someone who dug into other people's business, but as of right now, he sort of hated not knowing things about people he was close to. And he was close to Holden, right? They'd been working together for a few weeks now, and they could hold a decent conversation; they weren't strangers, at least. 

Holden looked up at him from the textbook laying open on the table. "What?"

"You and Grayson," he said again, tapping his pencil against the tabletop. "Every single time you two are in the same general area, it's like World War III erupts. Why do you hate him?"

"I don't hate him," Holden said with a shrug that was nowhere near convincing. "It's a...mild dislike, I suppose. A mutual one, too."

Phil flipped the page in his notebook. "Well, I can see why he would hate you," he said, and ignored the bitch face Holden threw him, "but I want to know the reason. I mean, he is my friend. I should know these things."

Truthfully, it wasn't his place to demand the information, if Holden didn't want to share it. It had nothing to do with him, but he was curious and too persistent for his own good. 

"You know, now that I think about it," Holden said pensively, "there isn't a real reason." Phil raised an eyebrow at him in disbelief. "I mean, he is annoying and loud. And he doesn't know how to take a joke. And he's way too overdramatic."

"And that's why you don't like him?"

"It's the kind of personality only a mother could love."

Phil laughed and shook his head. "You're such an asshole."

"Alright, there was this one time, in like Year 3 or something--"

"Wait, you've known him since primary school?"

"Not really knew him," Holden shrugged. "Just had the same class. Anyway, it was Valentine's Day, right, and we were doing some stupid card exchanging activity, where we had to bring cards and stuff the whole class. And Grayson walks in, calm and cocky as he's always been, and he's handing out his cards and just...skips me. He doesn't give me one, doesn't even look in my direction. That's a good enough reason, right?"

Phil stared at him in disbelief. "You're being serious? Some primary school grudge, that's the reason?"

"As a kid, that was a very triggering moment for me," Holden said, holding a hand over his heart melodramatically. Phil flipped him off. "Okay, so I don't have a very solid reason for not liking him. But he doesn't either, maybe you should interrogate him."

Phil shrugged and didn't have the will to tell him that him and Grayson weren't on such great speaking terms either. 

***

"Alright, first official band meeting in, like, fucking two months." Chris sat down across from Phil, leaning back against the wall and staring around the room expectantly. 

The four of them were spread out across the floor of their practice room; they hadn't been all in the same room in a long time, and the awkwardness of it was surprising. They'd never been so reserved with each other before. But Gray and Elliot were on opposite sides of the room, and Phil was trying not to draw too much attention to himself, and they were being so stupid. 

"I know that there have been some slight...complications, as of late," Chris continued, filling the profound silence gratefully, "but we are still Heinous, and we need to find a health and effective way to deal with them. Come on, we're still friends, guys."

But lately, their definition of friendship had begun to fade around the edges. 

Keeping secrets and stabbing each other in the back, that wasn't something friends would do, and yeah, Phil felt guilty as hell for all the shit he'd said to them, and he would like nothing more than to try and resolve it, but how? He couldn't tear them apart and try and fix it with duct tape, there were no magic words that could take it all back. They would always have these moments in their life, and that was the worst part of it all; the scars it left behind. 

"You morbid motherfuckers," Chris muttered, dragging a hand across his face roughly. "Okay, what I think we need is some bonding exercises. We can...try and bring out some of this tension, approach it and make it disappear."

"This is stupid," Elliot said. "Look, why don't we just play some songs, practice or whatever, I'm sure that's more important."

"Yeah, cause it's just that easy, right?" Chris shot back at him. "All of you, all of us, are way too fucked up right now to even begin cooperating, let alone play a decent chord together."

"And you think this will fix everything?" Grayson asked. 

"I think it'll be a step closer in getting our heads out of our asses. Is that good enough for you?"

And he wasn't...well, he wasn't wrong, and as much as they all seemed to shy away from the idea, there was no denying that it wouldn't help. 

"Good." Chris nodded to himself. "I'll start then. Phil?" He looked over at Phil with a determined look on his face, and took a deep breath. "I've always known about you and Dan."

"What?"

"Look, before you get mad," Chris said quickly, trying to reassure him, and it took all of his willpower not to snap at him. "I didn't tell you because I saw how happy he made you."

"And you thought not telling me would make it easier?" Phil asked in disbelief. "You don't know how fucking paranoid I was all the time, that you would find out and get angry, and shut me out. It would have been so much better, I...we wouldn't be in this mess if you had told me."

"I'm sorry," Chris said softly. 

Phil shook his head and sighed heavily, burying his face in his hands. "Well, this is off to a great start," he muttered with a sarcastic laugh. 

It went silent again, and Phil was starting to think they would just give up and try to work through it another way, when Grayson spoke up. 

"I, um," he said, staring down at his knees and tangling his fingers together nervously. He seemed uncomfortable with all of them looking at him. "I just want to say I'm really glad I became friends with you guys. Even with all the shit we've caused lately. Before I..." He swallowed thickly. "Before I started singing with you guys, I wasn't a very confident person, and I wasn't open about myself. About liking guys. When I met you, it was...easy, so easy to say it out loud, I'd been so terrified before, that I would never be accepted because of it, but you didn't care and that was....that was good for me." He swiped a hand across his face and gave them a watery smile. "So thanks, I guess."

Phil's heart was racing in his chest but he had no idea what to say to all of that. This whole thing was new and different, and he didn't yet know if he liked it, but they were talking, at least. 

"Glad we could help, then," Chris said, and Gray nodded and laughed. "Anyone else?"

Elliot crossed his arms over his chest, a few strands of blue hair falling across his eyes. He still looked entirely unhappy with the situation that was being forced on them, but he was well aware of the consequences of not participating. 

"Fine, just--" he said, refusing to look at any of them directly. "Lately, I've been really...confused. About lots of things, what I want and how to deal with it. And stressing out about it all the time isn't good, I know that, but I never thought I had someone I could go to about it."

He paused, and they were all staring at him in silent anticipation.

"My parents are moving to Brighton," he said quickly, like he was trying to make it less impactful. "And...so am I."

It's like they all stop breathing at the same time, and the room goes dead silent and Elliot is still staring at his knees, picking at the frayed edges of his jeans with shaking hands. 

"When?" Grayson breaks the tense silence, staring at Ellie with a look of shock and anger and sadness all mixed in one, and it's obvious why he's so scared. More than the rest of them, at least. 

Elliot manages a small smile. "I'll be able to do FTC, don't worry--"

"That's now what I'm worried about, I--" 

"Grayson, please." The pleading tone in his voice is enough to stop Grayson from whatever he'd been about to say. "I don't want to leave just as much as you guys don't want me to, but I don't have much of a choice, do I? Nowhere else I can go."

"I'm sorry, Elliot," Chris said gently, and it wasn't the best reassurance, but it was all he could offer. And he genuinely meant it. Phil didn't know what else he could possibly contribute, and Grayson stayed silent as well. 

And it was his turn now, wasn't it? To confess any secrets he hadn't already outed or talk about his feelings. The attention was all on him now, and he barely managed to remember how to breathe properly. 

"Look," he started slowly, tucking into himself and trying to seem as small as possible. "You guys know I'm not someone who's particularly good at 'expressing my emotions' and shit. This past month has been, a lot of things; messy and angry and miserable and almost intolerable. But it's also been....enlightening, I suppose."

He didn't know where he was going with this, but he wasn't lying. 

"I fucked up big time with this guy I really liked, and I know I shouldn't blame myself, but it's hard because part of it was my fault. It wasn't just him and it wasn't just me, and I'm realizing that I shouldn't cut myself up about it. Slowly but surely or whatever. And Chris...I've been a real dick to you, a lot, and I don't think I can say sorry enough to make up for it, but I am so sorry. Grayson, we," he laughs slightly and shakes his head. "We're probably the most fucked up in the group, and I don't deserve the good things you've done for me; I don't deserve your forgiveness. And Elliot, you have to be the best guy I know. Thanks for, always being there and stuff, for all of us, no matter we've done. I'm gonna miss you."

He didn't think it would turn into that huge apology, but it feels fucking amazing finally saying it all out loud, and he didn't realize he'd started crying until the tears are staining his jean-clad knees that are pulled up to his chin. He's cried way too much lately, and he was sure this wouldn't be the last time. 

A pair of arms wrap around him suddenly, circling his neck and pulling him into a tight hug, and he can't tell who it is but it doesn't matter because then it's two pairs, and then they're all hugging each other, a big pile of sobbing teenagers. Phil laughs and clutches the fabric of their shirts in his hands. 

These guys are some of the most important people in his life, and right now, they're beginning to repair themselves. Slowly but surely.


	19. Aftermath

Elliot was leaving in two weeks; the day after FTC, which he kept trying to say was a good thing, but they all knew it didn't matter. They'd rather not do the competition at all and have him stay than anything. 

And Audrey wasn't taking the news too well, either, if not worse. Phil was starting to realize that their relationship was a lot more serious than he'd been thinking, and this whole moving business wasn't easy on the both of them. They spent a lot of time together, trying to make the best of it he assumed, and Phil was there when it became too much for Grayson to handle. Him and Elliot had worked things out, somewhat, but it was still hard to just get over completely.

"What do you think it'll be like without him?" Gray asked softly, staring up at the ceiling of his room glumly and clutching his the front of his shirt tightly. Phil watched him, looking for any telltale signs of a breakdown, because he'd been doing that a lot lately; breaking down. Maybe it was healthy, letting him get it all out without any violence or malice, but it was horrible to watch. 

"You shouldn't think about that."

"Yeah, let me just forget about it, right?" He smirked. "My best friend, possibly the only person who gets me, and he's leaving and I won't ever get to see him face-to-face or call him at three in the morning because I can't sleep or talk to him about the stupid fucking stars like we used to. I'll just forget all that, okay?"

He knew that trying to reassure him wouldn't work, he'd just angry and tell Phil to leave, so he just sat and stared at his shoes, useless as he was. 

Gray wasn't the only one that would miss Elliot, but Phil knew it would probably affect him the most. 

"I mean," Grayson said in a shaky voice. "At least he knows how I feel about him. Even if it didn't go the way I planned, at least he knows. If he had left and I'd never said anything...god, I would have gone insane."

Phil moved from where he was sitting at his desk towards his bed, laying out beside Grayson and looking up as well. "He's not the only guy out there, you know," he said in the least accusing tone possible, hoping he was coming across as reassuring and not asshole-ish. "It won't be good at first, sure, but...it'll get easier. And maybe you'll find someone else."

Grayson tried to laugh, but it died in his throat and all that came out was a strangled gasp. "Yeah, I'm sure, but he's here right now, so what else am I supposed to do?"

And yeah, there was no good answer to that, so Phil just kept his mouth shut and let him wallow in peace. 

"God, just forget about my stupid problems for now," Grayson said, turning onto his side and giving him a curious look. Phil turned to face him. "What about you?"

"What about me?" Phil asked mechanically, shifting uncomfortably at the sudden subject change. He wasn't used to people asking about him, his life; it was unsettling. 

"You and Dan." Gray shoved his shoulder lightly. "Are you even gonna try and talk to him? Someone in this fucked up equation needs to be happy, and we're all rooting for you."

Phil shook his head. "I don't think it's such a good idea."

"And why's that?"

"Look, I miss him. There's not a day that goes by that I don't miss him, and what we had," Phil said. "And sure, maybe I've resolved some of the problems we had, but...I'm still terrified that I'm not good enough. He can do so much better, and we both know it."

"You're the worst kind of pessimist," Grayson said, and Phil rolled his eyes. "Why do you like him?"

"That's not important."

"Tell me." 

"Jeez, I don't know," Phil said, dragging a hand through his hair. "He's...nice. And funny. He has a nice voice, even when he's not singing." He paused, and Grayson gave him an impatient look, waiting for him to continue. "And he's just a great person, okay? He know how to have a conversation without being annoying, and he's not afraid to start an argument about stupid, small thing that matter to him, and he's got the most creative fucking mind, it's absolutely thrilling. And he's gorgeous, and he makes me laugh like no one else can, and he..." He suddenly can't breath around the lump in his throat, and he cut himself off, shaking his head. 

"What would you do to get him back?" Grayson asked softly. Phil nearly choked on his answer. 

"Anything."

***

He'd been through a lot the past week. Hell, the last two days had been more stressful and emotion-filled than he'd ever experienced before, and it was hard enough making the conscious decision to climb out of bed every morning, let alone make an attempt to try and patch up whatever could possibly be left between him and Dan. It was this constant weight that sat on his shoulders, going over and over and over the good and bad thing that would happen, and he tried his best to shut it out, but to no avail. 

And so by the time Friday rolled around, he'd decided he would go to TCEs gig. It was at eleven, only a few blocks away at some club that Phil had never heard of, and it wouldn't be that hard to sneak out. Or maybe he just had more motivation to, for this situation. 

He was just also terrified; of getting caught, of getting turned down, of fucking things up even more than they were already. Because what would he do then? This was, quite possibly, the one and only chance he had left to show he was good enough. At least, it felt that way.

He stayed in his room until it was time to go, scared that his parents would pick up on the nervous vibes he was practically sweating through his pores, and instantly know he was planning on doing something outside their bounds of acceptable, and by the time he'd climbed out of his window and into his car, he was a mess of twisted nerves and contradicting thoughts. Was he doing the right thing? Would this make any sort of difference, to anything?

Inside the club was a lot more crowded than he'd been expecting, and he barely made it to the door that led backstage without being trampled to death by the mostly drunk and impatient patrons. 

He had no idea where to go, or if he was even allowed to be in this part of the building, but there wasn't much room to second-guess the possible consequences of it. 

He passed through hallway after hallway, all twisting and turning like some impossible maze that he would never get out of, and just as he was starting to think this was a mistake altogether and leaving would be the best idea, he suddenly pushed through a set of thick curtains, and he was backstage, surrounded by equipment and wires taped to the walls and floors carefully. It was hot, the smell of sweat permeating the air and the humidity making him start perspiring immediately. 

And not ten feet away, all standing as far apart as it seemed possible, was TCE. 

He was standing in the shadows of the back walls, hidden by a few tall speakers and heavy looking cases, so they couldn't see him. The sight of Dan, standing by the curtains toward the stage, made him stop breathing for a second. The lights from the main room splashed across his face and the skin of his throat like phosphorescent paint, making him look unreal. 

There was no easy way to approach this, at all, but there was no way he was just going to walk out and demand that Dan talk to him; they would most definitely have him thrown out of the place or harassment or something, and he was not going to let this chance slip so easily away from him. He pulled his phone from his pocket and sent a text to Dan. 

phil:  
are you busy?

Dan let the curtain drop back into place, the light disappearing and casting his face into deep shadows again, and pulled out his phone. Even from were he was standing, Phil could visibly see the tension that crossed Dan's back and shoulders as he opened the message. 

ex-lover:  
a little. why?

phil:  
we need to talk.   
like, right now

It took a few minutes for Dan to respond. 

ex-lover:  
this really isn't the best time, later??

phil:  
meet me by the backdoors it'll only take a few minutes. i swear

He didn't stay to see if Dan opened his message, but went to stand by the back doors that would lead out into the parking lot, and swore that if he waited any longer than five minutes, he would take it as a lost cause and leave.

He didn't know what to say. Fuck, he really hasn't thought this through, didn't have any sort of plan; how the hell had he expected this to play out, just apologize and hoped that, by some magical feat, Dan would forgive him? Stupid, he was fucking stupid and he was only going to make things worse for-

"What the hell are you doing here?"

Phil looked up and met Dan's gaze, practically shaking when he realized this was the closest they'd been to each other in the last few weeks. And Dan looked anything but glad to see him. 

"I know I shouldn't have come," Phil started weakly, frantically trying to put his words together in a way that would make sense and wouldn't piss Dan off. "But I need to say this, and I need you to listen to me. At least give me that."

Dan shook his head. "If you're going to apologize to me-"

"I'm not." He ignored the weight that was beginning to shatter the bones in his chest and continued. "Look, you told me that...I didn't make you happy. The relationship we had, it was all kinds of messed up, and I have done so many things that only made it worse. And I get it, I understand why you didn't want that anymore."

"Then why are you here?" Dan asked thickly, staring at the wall beside him rather than meeting his eyes. Phil watched him dejectedly. 

"Because you also said that this wasn't forever. That we could start over, and not make the same mistakes." He reached out slowly, tracing his fingertips against the back of Dan's hand. "I want to do that."

"Phil..." Dan said, pulling away from his touch. "You can't just....you can't waltz in here, give me this sympathetic speech about how messed up we were, and promise it'll be better. You can't expect me to accept that." He shoved his hands into his pockets. "This, every single miserable thing we went through? It will always be there, whether we want to change it or not, and I can't bring myself to just deal with it, like it never happened."

"And I'm not asking you to." Phil protested. "I know this is gonna leave a huge mark, and nothing I say or do, nothing we do, will erase. But that's how it's supposed to be, that's how we get better. We move on, and when things get bad, we don't avoid it like we used to."

He was pleading at this point, desperate to make Dan see his side and attempt to reconcile what they were before. 

He knew they wouldn't be perfect. They never had been, and that was something they would come to terms with, because it wouldn't matter as long as they had each other. 

"I hate this so much," Phil said quietly, "tiptoeing around you, pretending like I don't care whenever I see you with PJ, staring at you when you're not looking. It's killing me, and maybe you don't feel a damn thing about me anymore, but you still mean the world to me. So what else am I supposed to do, if I can't try?"

Dan didn't say anything to that, and the darkness of the backstage surrounded them like a shroud of privacy and secrets, pushing into his lungs and making him suffocate, but he didn't react. His heart was beating in his chest, and he swore he could feel it in the palms of his hands, and the soles of his feet, and quick tempo that almost made him nervous all over again. 

"Dan." They both turned at the sound of a new voice, PJ standing a few feet away and staring at the pair curiously. "We're on in three minutes."

"Yeah, okay," Dan said to him, his voice catching slightly. He turned back to Phil. "I have to go."

"Wait, Dan--"

"What do you want me to say to all of that?" Dan exclaimed, stepping backwards, towards where his band mates were waiting. "Look, maybe we're just not meant for each other, okay? Maybe it never would have worked out between us, and maybe it never will."

And that was it. Dan left, and Phil stood there in that small area for what felt like years, as if he was waiting for Dan to come back and act like the whole thing had been a joke. A cruel joke, but God, he would take anything but this right now. 

He didn't stay to hear them play. He didn't think he'd be able to bear that, so he exited through that back door, out into the empty alleyway between this building and the one next door, uncaring of the cold air that seeped into his clothes immediately.


	20. Used To

Probably the worst part of any given Monday, no matter the situation, was the very beginning. After two glorious days of doing nothing, and then having to eventually succumb once again to the torture of the school system, well...it didn't weigh very easy on the mind. 

And as shattered as Phil was at the moment, the experience was heightened in the worst way. 

"So, he's an asshole," Chris said from the drivers seat of his car, simultaneously trying to comfort his friend and keep his eyes on the road so they didn't end up twisted around a tree or something. Not that Phil would object to death right now. "If he can't see what he's missing with you, then you need to forget about him. He isn't worth it."

Phil shook his head, which was pressed against the cool glass of the window. "Not that easy," he mumbled.

Chris was the only one who knew all the details of what had gone down between him and Dan on Friday. The others would be able to tell it hadn't been good just by looking at his face, but he didn't think he could handle reliving the moment again. What had he honestly been expecting, though? That Dan would forgive him, just like that, and they'd be the happy couple everyone thought they should be? That all the shitty things they'd done to each other would be forgotten, that bygones would be bygones. 

Well, Dan had already moved on, and Phil was still stuck in the past. 

Chris patted his shoulder, and he was trying to be supportive, Phil knew that. He just wasn't in the mood for all of their pitying looks and sympathetic words. He could be at home right now, curled under his warm blankets until mid-afternoon without being bothered by people who didn't get it. 

"I'm just saying, you shouldn't beat yourself up over some guy who won't matter in a few years," Chris continued. He spoke slowly, cautious of anything that would make Phil feel worse than he already did. "Speaking from personal experience, thinking about people who treat you like shit is not a good idea. Just live your life."

"Yeah, cause that got you so far, huh?" He needed to stop taking his frustration out on them. He would end up with nobody. 

"God, you're an asshole when you're sad." Chris smiled ruefully, and Phil curled in on himself a little bit more. 

"I'm sor--"

"Please, don't, do you know how many times I've heard you say 'sorry' in the last month alone?" Chris sighed. "Look, I'm not trying to fix you, or say that it doesn't matter. It does matter, but you don't need to let it define you. It's not your fault, and if there's nothing you can do to change it, then leave it alone. You're a good person. I just want you to remember that."

Phil dragged his hands across his face and sighed. "Okay. Can we just talk about something else, please?" 

Chris gave him another look, one that told him this conversations was definitely not over yet, but he conceded. "Fine. I wanted to talk to you about Ellie."

It still seemed like some sort of surreal dream, the idea that Elliot would be leaving them after all this time. They joked about it a lot, but all of them felt the underlying tension that ran through their spines at the very mention of it. They wouldn't be the same. None of it would be the same, and there was nothing they could do about it. 

"We're gonna have to replace him." Chris spoke the words as if they were acid on his tongue. "After FTC...well, we can't exactly be a band without a drummer. Not a good one, anyway."

It was hard to accept, but it was the truth, and Phil nodded. "So what, like, open try outs right after he leaves? 'Hey everyone, our best friend who we care deeply about has just left us for god knows how long, come take his place'?"

"You know I don't mean it like that."

"This is so shitty," Phil said, shaking his head. "When did this whole thing start falling apart?"

"It won't be shitty forever," Chris reassured. "This is just a bad situation at an even worse, inconvenient time. We have to work through it."

"And how long is that gonna take?"

"Who fucking knows?" Chris stopped the car in front of the school, but didn't turn it off, turning to face Phil head on for the first time since they'd been driving. "But for right now, we're gonna ignore the bad stuff and focus on getting through these next few weeks, because that's all we have left. And if those don't go well, then nothing will. So if you'd rather sit and mope about how bad your life is and end up by yourself at the end of the day, then be my guest, because I am not waiting for you to get your shit together." He didn't bother waiting for Phil to respond before grabbing his bag and heading into the building. 

He was right. Of all the unnecessary and usually inappropriate things he'd ever contributed to a conversation, these last few days, Chris had been nothing but helpful and empathetic to all of them. He was trying his best not to let things shatter into a million pieces, and none of them had fully realized that. 

Phil leaned his head backs against the seat and breathed as deeply and evenly as possible. He hadn't gotten a good nights sleep in at least three years, but it had been getting worse recently. He barely managed an hour or two before it was eventually time to get to school or practice, and it was not doing him any good. 

He did need to get his shit together, and fast.

***

Elliot's hair, which was usually dyed in some vibrant hue of color, was now dull and nearly faded out to a light gray. It almost seemed like a solid representation of his mood, symmetrical to his slumped posture and the strained smile he gave Phil when he sat down next to him in class that morning. 

"Broke up with Audrey," he said almost immediately, like he wanted it done and over with so he didn't have to deal with it anymore. "Both of us didn't think a long-distance thing would work. Too much miscommunication."

"Shit, Ellie," Phil breathed out, suddenly feeling very stupid about his own problems. "I'm sorry."

But Elliot shook his head, took a steady breath and relaxed his shoulders. "It's over and done with. I can deal with it." It sounded like a mantra he'd been repeating to himself, trying to force it into reality, and Phil was getting ready to tell him that he didn't need to deal with it like that before realizing how much of a hypocrite he'd probably sound like. "I have just over two weeks left here, so whatever needs to be done, needs to be done."

Phil watched him try to calm himself down. "I'm gonna miss you, El."

Elliot gave him a watery glare that didn't hold much threat alongside the crooked smile on his mouth. "Don't make me break down in the middle of this classroom, Lester." They grinned at each other like idiots, until the teacher walked in and announced the start of class. 

There was an almost methodical, blissful feeling to the hours that passed that day. Phil sat in his classes, only half aware of his surroundings, which was his usual state of mind on any weekday, but this was different. Most of the time, he sat in grueling boredom, doodling on his desk or spare paper or arms, constantly watching the hands of the clock tick past in eternal slowness. His teachers would call him out in the middle of the lesson for not paying attention, and then he'd go right back to his daydream state of mind. 

But it seemed he couldn't go too far out of focus today, for some reason. He felt really centered and in his mind, and maybe it was because he was finally getting over some unwanted stress in his life and moving on to happier things, but it felt...not unpleasant. Weird, but welcome. 

When lunch rolled around, he felt at ease slightly, but also just the tiniest bit on edge. 

He'd hasn't attempted to make any contact with Dan since Friday night, and if he was being brutally honest, he was fucking terrified. There was no telling what would go down, and yeah he was overthinking it by quite a lot, but nothing could pause the replaying scenarios of a public confrontation that would leave him emotionally drained and recessing into some shell of himself. 

"He isn't here," Chris said pointedly, watching Phil sit down at the table and scan the large room obviously. "Calm down."

"Sorry," Phil said with a heavy sigh, twisting the cap of his soda between his fingers. "I need to stop freaking out, I know. Can't help it."

"It's kind of fun to watch, actually." Chris smiled at his death stare as Grayson and Elliot both sat down at the table with them. "Alright, now that we're all here...I have a proposal."

Grayson, Elliot and Phil all groaned in unison, less then excited to be apart of anything Chris had come up with. 

"No offense, Chris," Grayson said gently, "but I think we should hold off on the 'exciting teenage experiences' for right now. We've already got enough shit to deal with."

"Aw, bullshit," Chris said, and didn't even falter at the three heavy glares he received in response. "Okay, fine, we do have a lot to deal with right now, and I get that, really. But are we really going to spend our remaining time together as four, complaining about how life isn't fair and we deserve better? That doesn't seem very appealing to me."

"It's just not a very good time," Phil said, staring at his hands. "No one's really in the mood for it."

"Come on, guys, this could actually be our last chance to do something as an entire group."

Grayson shook his head. "I don't think--"

"Let's just hear him out." All of them turned to Elliot in surprise; he'd always been one to argue against Chris's crazy plans. But considering his deflating disposition lately, it wasn't that far out of line. "It's important to him."

They turned back to Chris, who smiled triumphantly. 

"Thank you, Elliot," he said, then cleared his throat dramatically. "So, by now, we're all aware of the impending departure of one of our very good friends." His words only seemed to worsen the situation, but he didn't seem to notice as he continued. "I've taken it upon myself to not let these last moments be wasted in misery and regret."

He pulled out a folded sheet of notebook paper from his front pocket and set in the middle of the table. They stared at it, a square of white against the marbled surface that could hold any number of things, none of which could be too good. Elliot grabbed it first, and unfolded it slowly. 

"What is it?" He asked, skimming the list and trying to decipher Chris's blocky handwriting. Gray and Phil read over his shoulder. 

"It's a bucket list."

"Isn't that supposed to be for when you're dying?" Gray asked warily. 

"I mean, technically, yes, but this is a different kind of bucket list." He reached out and took that paper from their grasp. "It's like, a friendship bucket list. Things we need to go as a group before we eventually end up splitting apart."

"That sounds really depressing," Phil said. "I don't know if it's such a good idea."

"Why?" Chris argued. They all knew that he was very stubborn, and would sooner admit to being s furry than accept that his idea was a bad one. "Look, I know we aren't in the best of situations right now, but letting all of that bring us down will do nothing to help. There are things we will never get to experience together after this, and do you really want to look back and regret that?"

"FTC is less than two weeks away," Grayson countered. "Shouldn't we be more focused on practicing? Making sure we're ready for that?"

"And who say we can't have some free time?" 

"Chris, this isn't gonna do anything to help, and you know that," Phil said, trying not to sound like a bad friend and an even worse person in general. "We can't cover it up with movie nights and sleepovers."

"You know that's not what I'm trying to do." Chris shook his head, staring at them in disbelief. 

"I say we should do it." Elliot spoke up for the second time, and they all stated at him again, wondering if there was something actually wrong with him. Agreeing with Chris twice in one sitting?

Grayson gave him a worried look. "You don't mean that, Ellie, this isn't--"

"You don't get to tell me what I mean, Grayson." He'd never snapped Gray like that, and yeah, it was probably just his nerves talking, but it was still unexpected. "He's right. Yeah, FTC is right around the corner, and we need to be prepared for that, but...who knows when we'll see each other again?"

The suddenly sullen mood dropped down on them, heavy and barely manageable. They could barely function as it was, and life seemed to keep throwing them punches they couldn't handle, until the very foundation of who they were was shaken and unrecognizable. 

"I'm gonna..." Elliot said, standing up from the table slowly, "go to the bathroom." 

"I feel horrible," Grayson said once he had left, holding his head up in his hands and staring at the dirty wall blankly. "Like I can't do anything to help. I hate it."

"We'll be fine," Chris said vaguely, still holding his bucket list and reading over it carefully. He seemed entirely too invested in it, as if it would be the answer to all their problems. "We have to be."


	21. The Currents

It was almost eleven at night, and Phil had been trying to stay awake for the last hour and a half. He didn't usually take late shifts at his dad's restaurant, because he wasn't a big fan of working at all, and he didn't need the added exertion on top of homework and band practice. But lately, he'd been needing a distraction that didn't have to do with staring at his bedroom walls until he got dizzy or talking to other people, and this was the only choice. At least he got paid for it. 

The place was empty, long since rid of the late night occupants and the other employees who actually had lives and plans, so that now it was just him and his dad, and the occasional flickers of the fluorescent lights that painted shadows on the walls out of the corners of his eyes. It was boring.

"Don't you usually stay up until three in the morning?" His dad walked out from the kitchen carrying a large box, grunting as he set on the counter, and turned to his son. "Didn't think a late shift would be too much of a challenge for you."

"Not like I have anything to do," Phil said tiredly, resting his chin on his folded arms. They were technically still open, but no one else would come in at this hour, not compared to the flashy, more extravagant and expensive cafés and diners just around the corner. This was more of an afternoon place, where curious passerby stepped in to see what an area like this had to offer that allowed it to still even be in business. Phil sighed. "When are we leaving?"

"Soon as I'm done taking inventory." His dad opened the box and started piling stuff onto the countertop; mustard and ketchup, napkins, and silverware. "Why don't you make yourself useful and organize the cash register, you know Mike always makes a mess of it. I swear, it's like he's never seen proper money before in his life..."

Phil pushed himself off of the counter and headed to the register, sighing heavily when he opened it and saw how much of a mess it really was. He didn't have enough physical effort for this right now. 

A sort of docile calm fell over the two of them as they worked their separate jobs, and the only sound was the occasional scratch of pen against paper from his father and the clink of change against the counter as he sorted it all out. 

It was times like this he liked having such a reclusive relationship with his parents. They could sit in silence for as long as possible, not uttering a single word about their personal lives or anything outside of what needed to be said at that exact moment, and it didn't matter. It did seem a bit unhealthy and worrying, but right now, he could do with some time to himself. 

But then there were times when his parents did ask about his life. Maybe just to fill a silence they felt was too awkward, or to try and seem like they were interested in what he had been up to lately, but it was always unplanned and uncomfortable. 

Tonight was just not his night. 

"So," his dad started, not looking up from whatever he was writing. Phil glanced at him uneasily. "How have things been lately? Doing good in school and all that?"

Phil bit his lip, pausing from what he was doing. "I guess, yeah," he muttered. It wasn't like he didn't want to talk, just...maybe some other time. Like, a few years from now. "I'm doing a lot better in Physics." Despite his previous lack of enthusiasm towards the constant tutoring with Holden, he found that it actually had helped him improve his grades, which was at least one less thing to worry about.

"Wow, words I thought I'd never hear." He laughed at Phil's scowl. "And, uh, what about the mystery someone you've been seeing behind our backs?" Sometimes, it was very weird to realize that they knew next to nothing about his personal life, despite the fact that he was the one who made it that way. 

He began to refill the register, saying nothing for a long moment. "We're not really...a thing anymore. I guess."

His dad whistled lowly. "Ah. You didn't break their heart, did you?"

Phil laughed solemnly. "No, it was, kind of a mutual breaking of hearts. He did the breaking up, but it was mostly my fault."

"He." Phil rolled his eyes at the excitement his dad got just from knowing it was a guy. "I don't have to rough anyone up, do I?"

"Jeez, no dad. It's fine."

They lapsed back into silence again, slightly less awkward than before. It was almost comforting, or at least, not so invasive and suffocating like usual. He always felt uncomfortable, not having anything to say in the middle of a conversation. 

When he'd finished with the register, it was almost 11:30, and he waited impatiently for the time they were going to go home. He didn't know how they expected him to stay up so late, do all of his homework, and still wake up on time for school the next day. It was an unrealistic expectation that he would never fulfill. 

"What have I told you about inviting your friends here at closing time?" His dad suddenly said, trying to sound stern and reprimanding but mostly coming off as mildly whiny. 

Phil looked over at him, confused. "What are you talking about?"

His dad pointed towards the glass door, and Phil was expecting to see Chris or Grayson, or even (by some grace of God and a whole lot of luck) Dan, but it was none of the above. He stood frozen, trying to wake up from whatever lucid dream he'd concocted from his lethargic state of mind. But nothing changed. 

"I'll just..." Phil closed the register and gave his dad a reassuring thumbs up. "I'll just be a minute, okay?" He didn't wait for a reply before pushing his way outside into the cold night, wrapping his arms around himself tightly and staring up at the figure in front of him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Jeez, nice to see you, too." PJ smiled mockingly at him. "Not like I braved the harsh winter weather just to talk to you or anything. Could use a bit more appreciation."

Phil looked back into the restaurant where his dad was watching them not-so-inconspicuously from the corner of his eye. "Now isn't a very good time."

"It's about you and Dan." He grinned when Phil snapped his gaze back towards him, eyes wide with shock. "Did you two seriously think it was ever a secret? You can't keep your eyes to yourself." He shrugged. "And I may have went through his phone when he wasn't around."

Phil tried to let that sink in; it was a slap to face, knowing that everyone had already figured it out while the two them kept up their oblivious little bubble, like no one else was around and could see them. It made it even harder, knowing it was all over with anyway. "Okay," Phil said slowly. "So you know. You want me to stay away from him now?"

"Don't be so paranoid." PJ said. "Not everyone is here to fuck with you two, not even me. I'm just here to say that I sincerely believe you both need to get over whatever shit fest you've created and make up again, it's annoying how much you pine over each other without even noticing. It makes me nauseous."

He don't know if he should actually believe all of this, if PJ wasn't just here to rub it all in his face or to humiliate him even more by getting him to do something stupid. From all the stories Phil had heard of him, it didn't seem entirely unlikely. "I thought you two were...together?"

PJ smiled again, but it was much more subdued and stiff. He stared down at the ground. "Yeah, well. I don't have the best reputation with relationships, you might've heard." Phil's stomach twisted as he remembered Chris's words. "And Dan's my friend. I know he's only with me to try and get over you. If I let it get too far....I don't want to hurt him, okay? He doesn't need that right now."

The infamous PJ Liguori was not known for his sincerity, and Phil was questioning this whole thing as it played out. Was this really a side of the asshole player that he'd never seen before? Was it some elaborate plan to make Phil think he still had a chance, only to fuck things up for possibly the hundredth time? Or maybe this was a dream, and he'd wake up any second with his mind reeling and the hole in his chest aching at the edges. 

"I appreciate the effort," Phil said, practically choking the words out around the lump in his throat, "but he doesn't talk to me anymore. There's nothing else I can do."

"So you just give up?" PJ shook his head. "I thought you really liked him." Phil opened his mouth to protest, but the words wouldn't come. He didn't feel like arguing about this, not right now and definitely not to the guy had hurt his best friend and was on his way to doing the same to Dan. It wouldn't change anything. "I know he doesn't make it easy, but you can't just let him go like that. Not if he means anything to you."

PJ slowly retreated, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets as he left, but only made it about five feet before he turned around again. "You're not selfish for wanting him back, and he's not selfish for turning you down. There's always gray areas; you just need to find them."

And then he was gone, disappearing into the darkness like he'd never even been there. And Phil watched until his hands grew numb, before sighing shakily and walking back into the restaurant. His dad looked up at him. 

"What was that all about?" He asked as Phil sat heavily in the chair behind the counter. "Seemed pretty intense."

Phil said nothing for a minute, staring at the wall blankly. Then...

"I think the universe is telling me I'm an epic failure." And he had no idea what to do about that. 

***

Grayson and Elliot were sitting by themselves, across the cafeteria at a smaller table, talking like they weren't surrounded by other teenagers who couldn't seem to speak at a level below screaming. Elliot had re-dyed his hair so that it was a much more vibrant blue, and he looked...well, he was smiling, at least. 

"I hate them," Chris said glumly, head slumped against his fist as him and Phil watched them inconspicuously, like good friends do. "Their relationship is better than all of mine put together,  and they're not even dating."

"You're still young," Phil said, and patted his shoulder. "I'm sure you'll find yourself a good person before you're fifty."

Chris flicked him off unenthusiastically. 

Phil hadn't told anyone yet about his late night visit from PJ a few days ago. He didn't think it would do anything good for their vibe, which was only just beginning to become stable again. Plus, he didn't even know what to make of it himself, and he'd much rather figure it out alone before blabbing about it to everyone. Keeping secrets had already been proven to be a bad idea, but this was different, wasn't it? He had a right. 

But so far, he'd only taken the words into consideration metaphorically. PJ didn't give him any telltale signs that they'd ever spoken in the first place, and he hadn't seen Dan for the last week; it seemed he was skipping lunch now to avoid him, and if that wasn't a clear sign that Phil should leave things alone, he didn't know what was. 

"Hey, so look at this," Chris suddenly said, and he reached into his bag to pull out a thick stack of papers, setting them on the table and leafing through them. "I put together a profile on the first groups we're supposed to be playing against. And from the recordings of their songs I've heard in YouTube, I think we might have a chance. I mean, they usually put the weaker bands up first, so it shouldn't be too much of a problem, but their setup is much higher quality than ours, so that may be a problem."

"Why are you freaking out about this so much?" Phil asked, snatching the top sheet and reading the page-long biography on every member, which included their blood type and shoe size. "It doesn't matter how much we know about them, as long as we play better than them."

"God, I don't even know." Chris ran both hands through his hair as he stared at the words in front of him. "It's just mild paranoia or something. I woke up at two in the morning, and I couldn't help it, I had to search up everything about them. I hate not knowing things."

But Phil didn't question it, setting the page back on top of the stack without a word. 

When the bell rang, he gathered all of his stuff and parted ways with Chris, trying to make it to his next class all the way on the other side of the school in the allotted five minutes he had before he was considered late. 

The end of the day was drawing nearer, and by the time he was sitting in his last period Physics class, he was dead tired. Not that he would be able to do anything about it after school, because they had practice every day now in preparation for the coming competition. 

Holden had been sick the last couple of days, so there was no independent studying sessions for right now, but he didn't mind. He had actually missed being in the classroom, for some reason. And Holden was a strict tutor at the best of times, so that was less stress for him. 

When the final bell signaled the end of the period, Phil was one of the first out of the door, wanting to get to his locker as soon as possible so he could leave. 

But he opened the metal door, and there a small box sitting on the top shelf that hadn't been there this morning. There was a post-it note stuck to it. 

still had your locker combo.  
just some of your stuff, i didn't know if you'd want it back or not.   
-d

A few of his old t-shirts that were probably too small for him now; crumpled sheets of paper that he knew were notes they'd written to each other; a faded notebook full of songs they'd written together. 

Anything that might have been left of them was now folded into this box, squared away and stuffed into his locker with only a couple of flimsy lines explaining what it was doing here at all. 

He couldn't deal with this anymore. 

He dropped the box back into his locker and slammed the door shut, ignoring the people who stared at him as he marched through the crowds towards the second floor. Dan was standing by his own locker, zipping his bag closed, when he saw Phil heading towards him. 

"You're a fucking coward." Phil didn't care how much of a scene he was making, he didn't care how much Dan would hate him or what his friends would think. 

Dan stared at him open mouthed, obviously not expecting anger from him. "Excuse me?" 

"You keep doing this over and over," Phil said through his clenched teeth. "Breaking my heart piece by little piece, is it too fucking much for you to just do it all at once? Look me in the face and tell me you hate me, instead of waiting till I'm out of sight to do it? I'm not gonna sit here and wait for whatever surprise attack you have planned next, so if you have anything else to say or give to me, just do it right now. Rip the fucking bandaid off, I don't care how shy or scared you are to face me. I'm sick of this."

The hall was mostly empty by now, but anyone who was there had gone silent and was watching the two of them. Dan looked around and clutched his bag to his chest. "Are you serious right now?" He asked in disbelief. "You couldn't do this some other time?"

He pushed past Phil without another word, and everyone else went back to whatever they'd been doing before. Phil stood there for what felt like hours, trying to sort through the mountain-sized pile of emotions that he'd gone through in mere minutes. 

"Hey." Grayson was at his side, pulling at his arm gently to make him move. He must have seen the whole thing. "Let's go, okay?"

And Phil, still trembling, followed him.


	22. Gloom Boys

Phil woke up Saturday morning earlier than he would have liked. He didn't know if it was his internal alarm clock or just the general stress, but no matter how late he stayed up at night, he was always awake too early. Nine a.m. was for overachievers. 

Grayson was hanging off the other side of his bed, curled around one of his pillows as he snored on quietly. He was the only of his three band mates who didn't kick in their sleep or hog all the blankets. Chris and Elliot had settled on the floor with very minimal grumbling. 

The last time they'd all slept in one room together, it had been July and the sweltering heat had made them sleep in separate corners as far away from each other's body heat as possible. Now, December air had them dragging every possible blanket from around the house into the room to stay warm. 

Phil pushed himself up heavily, still foggy from sleep. Gray didn't even move as Phil shifted around before standing up and heading to the door; they were all heavy sleepers, so he didn't worry too much about keeping quiet as he stepped around Chris and Ellie's splayed out bodies. By the time he made it to the hallway, he was much more awake and encouraged to go downstairs by the smell of coffee.

"Morning," his mum said as he walked into the kitchen. She was still in her robe and pajamas, but he knew she would soon get dressed in her regular work clothes. Even though she pretty much ran on the same schedule he did, she never wasted a free day. He felt exhausted just thinking about it. "Everyone else still asleep?"

Phil nodded half-heartedly and grabbed a mug from the cabinet. "Might be for a while, they stayed up pretty late last night."

"I noticed," she said. Phil tried not to feel too guilty about any noise-making from them that might have kept her up. 

For the last week, they had slowly begun to make their way through Chris's friendship bucket list, despite the almost unending amount of complaining it got from Phil and Grayson. Phil would rather be left on his own for a little while, he had too much shit to sort through already without his band mates constantly dragging him out of the house for sleepovers and nights out in the city; he didn't need headaches and hungover friends on top of his thousand other problems. And Grayson didn't very much like being reminded of the ascending separation of their group, but he was much more easily convinced than Phil. Elliot had become a lot harder to say no to. 

His mum only smiled wanly at him; she seemed to be walking on eggshells with him as of late, and he didn't know if that was because of Elliot or because of Dan. Whatever it was, it annoyed him, how pretty much everyone these days was suddenly starting to care about his feelings. Pity and sympathy and hope and worry, all thrown at him from every possible direction. They thought they were helping but it just made things worse, because he didn't like dragging people down into his bad moods with him. 

The silence between them was just bordering on being awkward when Chris walked into the kitchen, giving his mum an excuse to leave the two of them alone. Phil relaxed his shoulders when she left. 

"Mm, coffee," Chris muttered, dragging his feet as he walked towards the counter. He had never been much of a morning person, and Phil was mystified as to how he could even manage to speak actual words at such an early hour. 

"Good morning to you, too," Phil said. "I'm surprised you're not the last one awake."

"Not by choice." Chris dropped an obscene amount of sugar into his mug and stirred it idly. "Elliot nearly punched me in the face. He's more violent when he's unconscious, have you ever noticed that?"

It went quiet between them after that. There weren't many interesting things to talk about when they were both still dull and sleepy, but Phil was still waiting, waiting for his friend to break the figurative ice, to start asking Phil about his life and how he was holding up. He'd gotten used to being coerced into their 'meaningful talks' whenever he was alone with any of them. 

But Chris hopped up to sit on the counter and stare into his cup languidly, taking a sip every now and then. He looked entirely unconcerned about anything beyond the tip of his nose. 

"So, what," Phil said carefully, "no therapeutic conversation starters? No questions about Dan or how I've been doing lately? You don't usually hold back."

Chris smiled at him and shrugged. "Figured we've talked about him too much already. Plus, you never seem entirely happy about the topic." 

"I don't know," Phil said offhandedly. "I mean, yeah, it doesn't put me in a good mood, but...it helps a little. To talk about it."

"Okay," Chris said. "Do you want to talk about it right now?"

Phil thought about it. It didn't seem all that important right now, and so far, he hadn't been very close to breaking down about it or even having a mild temper tantrum. On the other hand, there were some things he wanted to do that could only be done in a moment like this. 

"I wanted to ask you something, actually," Phil said, trying not to sound too pervasive about it. Chris looked surprised that the spotlight had suddenly turned to him, but he didn't protest. 

"Is it something I'll be upset about?" He asked. 

"Maybe."

Chris nodded slowly, contemplating it. "Alright. What is it?"

"After..." Phil started, staring at his hands. "After what happened with you and PJ, did you ever try to talk to him?"

As soon as he said it, Chris looked away. He wasn't angry about the question, or didn't seem to be, but Phil could tell by the slump of his shoulders and the way he tapped the sides of his mug that he wasn't exactly excited by it. "You shouldn't compare what happened to me with what's happening to you," he said gently. Even now, being faced head-on with his worst experience, he was still being the consoling friend. 

It had never occurred to Phil that Chris was becoming one of the strongest people he knew. He'd had a shitty relationship with a shitty person, who'd broken him to pieces, and he had every reason to be bitter and angry about it, but he wasn't. He would much rather show how much he'd grown past it, and the fact that he was still sitting here, every inch of the person he was supposed to be, proved that. 

"I wasn't," Phil said. "I just want to know if I'm doing it wrong. If trying to talk to him is making it worse, if I should just stop."

"I don't think you should," Chris said. "Dan and PJ are nothing alike, no matter how long they've known each other. I did the same thing you're doing, and the only difference is that Dan actually acknowledges you. Peej wouldn't even give me the time of day. There was no hope for me, not like there is for you."

And Phil couldn't do anything but nod because his throat was starting to close up. "It's been two years, you know," he said carefully. "When he talked to me, he wasn't too bad. Maybe he's different."

Chris shook his head. "Trust me. Seasons change, people don't."

Phil didn't get a chance to respond to that as Grayson stumbled into the kitchen. He looked down at his feet when he saw the two of them watching him, but even then, Phil could see that his face was turning red and he was biting his lip. Something was up with him. 

"Morning," Grayson said quietly as he made a coffee for himself. Chris and Phil greeted him in kind, sharing a 'what-the-fuck' look over Gray's head. 

"Everything alright?" Chris asked lightly; neither of them knew if there was something serious bothering him, and they didn't want to ask any wrong questions. "You seem...off."

"Hm? Oh, I'm fine." Gray gave them a barely convincing smile that did nothing to ease their curiosity. 

He obviously wasn't going to tell them, so they left it alone. For now. 

***

Holden was standing in front of the school on Monday morning, digging through his bag with a pencil stuck in his mouth. He looked tired and irritated, and thoroughly surprised when Phil immediately pulled him into a tight hug. 

"I owe you my life," Phil said graciously, ignoring Holden's protesting groans. "I'm forever in your debt."

"This is not something I want to be apart of right now," Holden muttered. "What the hell are you talking about?"

Phil stepped back. "I was wrong about you. All this time, I thought you were rude and arrogant, and just a generally displeasing person--"

"Thank you, so much."

"--but you've helped me blossom into someone I can be proud of. I'll never be able to repay you."

Holden looked around them, trying to see if this was a prank or if Phil was just having an emotional break down, but there didn't seem to be anything that alleviated his suspicions. "Okay. Is there an explanation for this? Am I in an alternate universe or something?"

Phil reached into his own bag and pulled out a crumpled sheet of paper, a Physics test he'd taken last Thursday, with a large '100' scrawled across the top in red marker. Next to it was a smiley face with a motivational 'keep it up!' from his teacher. Holden stared blankly at it for a second. 

"Wow, is this real?" He said, reaching out to touch it, as if it would disappear at any moment.

"Yup." Phil nodded, smiling widely. "All thanks to you. As much as I hate spending time in your presence, it actually helped me out."

The bell rang before Holden could give what was sure to be a scathing response, and they walked into the building together. Phil was in a good mood, so much so that he couldn't even find it in himself to be irritated by the large crush of other students around him. Holden was a different story. 

"Alright, then," he said, scowling at a younger girl who'd accidentally rammed into his shoulder. "Now that you've got your passing grade, does this mean the tutoring sessions are done? I'd love to have my afternoons free again."

Phil sighed. "I suppose," he said in a longing voice. "I'll miss it, though. Won't you?"

"Not in the slightest."

Grayson was waiting at his locker. He didn't give Holden anything more than a stiff nod, but it was the best Phil could ever hope for between them. "Chris says we're gonna do a mega-practice after school today. And after that, he wants to go to the beach, it's on the stupid 'friendship bucket list'."

"Jeez." Phil shook his head as he put in his locker combination. "He doesn't waste any time, does he?"

"Definitely not," Gray agreed. "I'm kind of thinking about...not going."

"Oh," Phil said. He hadn't even considered that as an option. "Why?"

Grayson shrugged weakly. "I don't know, this whole thing has been way too much effort in the first place. It seems like we're trying too hard or something. Like, doing all this stuff will make it easier when he leaves."

Maybe Phil didn't necessarily like the whole bucket list idea, but hearing Grayson say it like that made him surprisingly defensive of it. He knew that Chris was only trying to help them spend more time together, because Lord fucking knew they would only end up moping about their situation until it was too late to try and fix anything. They were bonding, and even Phil had to admit that most of it was fun. 

"You shouldn't opt out because of that," Phil said. "If you didn't go, it would probably make him feel guilty, and then things will be all weird again. Humor him, at least."

The final bell interrupted their conversation, and Phil watched Gray pass him and head towards his first period class with slumped shoulders. He really hoped he hadn't said anything wrong then, he was already the center of too many problems in other people's lives right now. 

Most of the morning went by unnoticed, and Phil was pretty much on the verge of hardcore napping in all of his classes. Elliot wasn't in Algebra first period, and he didn't show up later either, so Phil assumed he was taking advantage of his leaving by skipping. It was boring without him, usually bright-haired and laughing at stupid jokes he would make up. When class ended, he slowly packed his things and stepped out into the crowded hallway.

He was about five steps from his next class when someone grabbed his arm and pulled him into the closest bathroom. 

"PJ." It was still a shock that PJ, who was supposed to hate his guts and everything else about him, was now actively seeking him out, and in the very public hallways of school. "What's wrong?"

Because it was only then that he noticed something actually was wrong; Peej seemed a bit more panicky than usual, running his hands through his hair and making it stand on end. "I need to...I need to you to talk to Chris for me." He said those words with a confusing mixture of defeat and worry and fear.

"Talk to Chris..." Phil repeated slowly, trying to process it himself. "Talk to him about what? What's going on with you?"

"Please, you're the only one he'll listen to," PJ said earnestly. "He damn well won't listen to me, and he probably won't even care, but it's important and I have to tell him."

Yeah, maybe he wasn't in the best position to be making such rash decisions, but in all fairness, he was still mostly in awe of the whole situation. "Okay, I'll talk to him. What am I supposed to say?"

"Just...tell him that it's happening again. And the journals aren't working this time." And that wasn't vague in the slightest. 

Another student walked into the bathroom, giving them a cursory glance before ignoring them completely, and PJ took that as his chance to try and leave, but Phil grabbed his arm before he could. "What the hell is any of that supposed to mean?"

"He'll know." PJ shook his head, calming himself down before he headed back to class. "When you say it, he'll know. Just tell him."

And then he left, and Phil stood in the middle of that bathroom for almost a full minute, trying to work through whatever the fuck had just happened.


	23. In Bloom

Phil didn't get a chance to see Chris until after school. He wasn't at lunch with the rest of their group, and Phil searched almost every classroom trying to find him, but with no luck. PJ had made it pretty clear that his message was of utmost importance, and Phil was trying his hardest to relay it, but his friend was nowhere to be found. 

"What do you think he even meant?" Grayson asked, standing at Phil's locker and staring off into space, as if pondering this very philosophical, earth-shattering question. "'The journals aren't working'. Seems pretty cryptic, doesn't it?"

"Who knows what goes on in PJs head," Phil sighed as he closed his locker. 

Neither Grayson nor Elliot knew about Chris and PJs dark and dreary past together, and it looked like it would stay that way for a while. Phil had only told Gray about PJs message to him because he knew something was up, and he would probably be more willing to help him find Chris if he had at least some of details. 

Phil was starting to wonder just how confusingly tangled Chris and PJ were; it was obviously something only the two of them would know about, something personal and unique. He didn't know how Chris would react to him reiterating PJs words, didn't know if he would get angry about it or silently obsess over it and shut himself away again. There was just no telling with that guy. He just hoped it wasn't one of PJs evil ploys to get Chris distracted and emotional before FTC. 

It seemed like every time one mess got cleaned up, another one was forcing them to get dirty all over again, and it kept getting worse and worse. There was no telling how long they could keep it up until something broke, something that couldn't be fixed easily. 

He drove Grayson home silently, and when he was alone again, he tried his hardest to pile all of their current problems into one organized mess to deal with one at time. 

Between Chris and PJ, and PJ and Dan, and Dan and Phil, and Grayson and Elliot and FTC and school and his parents...there was no fucking breathing room. He was holed up in this tiny box, completely overwhelmed with all the responsibilities that everyone was shoving onto his shoulders, and it was hard enough keeping his head above water without all of it pushing him down, but now he was tasked with trying to find a solution to all of it and not fuck it all up again. They had to know by now it was something he wasn't good at. 

He drove the Chris's house and was relieved to see his car parked in the drive way. He didn't know what he would have done if he wasn't here. 

"What's up?" Chris asked when he opened the door, still in pyjamas; he'd probably been in bed all day. "Nobody's dead, are they? You have this weird look on your face."

"What? No." Phil shook his head. "I just have to talk to you."

"Oh." Chris sounded suspiciously disappointed by that, but he stood to the side and let Phil in anyway. 

The house was clean, everything put in its proper place and nowhere near the idea of even cluttered, but Chris's room was a war zone of tangled clothes and cords strewn across the floor and various cups on almost every flat surface. He claimed it was his way of presenting his personality in a physical way, but everyone knew he was just too lazy. 

Phil closed the door behind him, and Chris flopped back onto his bed, pulling his laptop onto his chest. "So what do you want to talk about?"

Phil sat at the desk. "Why didn't you come to school today?" he asked. He wasn't purposefully trying to avoid the subject, he just didn't want to cause any problems so soon. He didn't know how sensitive the words PJ had given him were, and it was clear how much it would affect his friend if it turned out to be something he couldn't deal with. 

"Seriously?" Chris gave him a skeptical look. "You made it sound important."

"It is important," Phil insisted. "Maybe I was concerned for your health and safety all day today."

"Go fuck yourself," Chris said with a smirk. "Sometimes, I can't bring myself to try and be a capable human being at 5 in the morning. I deserve a break, too."

"Well, you missed some interesting stuff." Phil tugged at the hem of his shirt absently. He averted his gaze to the floor, as if it would make things better somehow. 

"Did I?" Chris asked jokingly. 

"Yep." Phil said. "Elliot was missing, too. I passed Physics for the first time ever. I talked to PJ."

"What the fuck?" Chris said sharply, sitting up and letting his laptop fall on to the bed. "Why? What did he say?"

Phil stared at him blankly, trying to understand what it was that made Chris so eager to hear about it when he was supposed to hate PJs guts. It was weird, and he couldn't help feeling like there was something else he didn't know. 

"He was kind of freaked out, I guess," he said with a shrug. "It was kind of crazy, he wanted me to...tell you something."

Chris shook his head. "I don't want to hear it."

"I don't know, Chris, it sounded really important."

There was a moment of stilted silence, and Phil felt like he shouldn't have been there, shouldn't be the one saying this stuff to Chris. He felt like an innocent bystander to whatever kind of storm it was raging between them. There was nothing he could do. 

After another minute, Chris swore violently under his breath and stood up, pacing the room with his arms crossed over his chest. "It's like, every time I try to get rid of him," he said, "he comes back worse than before. I fucking hate him so much." 

"He just..." Phil said carefully, sensing Chris's bad mood and trying to prevent it from getting worse. "He just said something about the journals not working. And that it's happening again."

Chris froze, and Phil knew that it was something bad. At this point, almost anything relating to the idea of PJ was bad, but this was probably high up on the list. 

"He knows that's not my fucking problem."

"What does that mean?" Phil asked. He knew he was most likely being nosy for no good reason, but he was being dragged into their mess against his will, so he figured he could at least have a basic explanation. "What journals is he talking about?"

Chris sat on the edge of his bed, still agitated. "It's a long story," he said quietly. "Long, and personal, and...dumb."

He knew he shouldn't pry anymore, so he didn't ask for details, but it seemed Chris was already on a roll. He spoke softly, muted and morose. 

"When we were hooking up or whatever, he used to have really bad, like, performance anxiety. Which I thought was really weird, cause he's always so confident otherwise. But it was bad. And I felt horrible cause I usually couldn't help. 

"He told me it was fine, and that I didn't need to feel so responsible, but I did, so I wrote some stuff for him. It was stupid, just stuff I thought was good about him. Lyrics and stories, memories, that kind of stuff. I gave it to him, and..." Chris paused, shaking his head. "He said it was awesome. And I believed him cause he took them with him fucking everywhere, it was kind of embarrassing. To me. But it made me feel good, knowing he liked them.

"So I kept doing it, buying notebooks and filling them up and giving them to him. I swear, he had like, twenty by the time we gave up on each other."

Chris looked down at his hands, and Phil could see he was shaking a little bit. "I didn't think he'd still have them."

It was a little bit overwhelming, piecing together all the small fragments of what had happened with Chris and PJ, and Phil felt very much under qualified to be trying to help Chris sort it all out, but this was his best friend. The only problem was, Phil didn't know what to say. He'd listened to Chris bitch and moan about how horrible PJ was and how he never wanted to be involved with him again, but he also knew that PJ had to have changed from the ugly, bitter person he had been a year ago. 

"I think you need to talk to him."

Chris sighed and shook his head. "I can't, you already know I can't--"

"Chris, I know he was a righteous dick to you, and there's no justifying what he did," Phil said carefully, "but he obviously has something to say to you. Whether it's an apology or not, I think you need to give him a chance to talk. And if you still hate him after, then okay. But if you let this thing keep decaying while you ignore it, you'll never be satisfied."

That was all he could think to say, and since Chris didn't immediately punch him in the face or worse, he assumed it was okay.

His phone started ringing, and he cursed it for ruining this moment of solidarity, but pulled it out anyway.

ex-lover

"Is that Dan?" Chris asked, leaning over his shoulder to see the screen. 

"Yeah," Phil said, slightly strained. Now he was the one shaking. "What do you think he wants?"

Because this was the first time Dan had even attempted to reach out to him since they'd split. It couldn't be good, they hadn't been 'good' in a while, but he could feel his pulse start to jump from the hope that maybe.... maybe it wasn't bad.

"I don't know, but you should answer it."

The phone kept ringing in his hand and he kept staring at it with wide eyes. "I should?"

Chris didn't give him a chance to consider before reaching over and pressing the green answer button for him. Phil's heart stopped for half a second before he put the phone to his ear.

"Hello?"

There was a second, an agonizing and anxiety-filled second, of silence, and then-- "Hey." Dan's voice was soft, none of the venom or pity that he recently used when talking to Phil. "This isn't...I'm not interrupting or anything, am I?"

"Oh, no," Phil said with a little less panic in his voice. "You're fine, I'm just at Chris's house."

"Okay." Another pause, and Phil didn't know what to do with himself because he hadn't been expecting this. There was no telling what this phone call even meant, if it meant anything at all. "I just... I've been staring at my ceiling for, like, a fucking hour, and I need to tell you I'm sorry."

"Sorry," Phil repeated. Chris raised an eyebrow at him and smirked, and Phil punched his arm to make him stop. "For what?"

"I think, everything," Dan said. "I keep trying to make myself hate you. Because I should really, really hate you, and I keep doing all of this stupid shit to make it worse. And I'm sorry, cause you don't deserve that."

"Oh," Phil said, and yeah, he really wasn't expecting this. "You don't have to...I mean, maybe I do deserve it."

"You don't. No one does."

There was this tiny, almost minuscule part of Phil that started blossoming at those words, at the fact the Dan still even thought of him as worth forgiveness. This was a step, one single step of the many it would take before they could bear each other again. Phil's grip tightened on the phone at his ear. "Thank you," he said, and his voice was rough with whatever emotion was trying to climb up his throat. 

There was no going back to what they had been before, but there was this. And this was good for now.

"Fuck," Dan half-muttered to himself. "Phil, I fucking miss you. And there's no logical reason for it, but I do, I miss you like crazy."

Phil rubbed the back of his neck, pushing down the sudden explosion of butterflies in his stomach and ignoring Chris's insistent hand motions for him to put the phone on speaker. "I miss you, too. You already know that."

"I do," Dan said, half-laughing. "How many people...know about us?"

"Everyone." Phil shoved Chris away from trying to eavesdrop. "Everyone that matters. Parents, the band. Honestly, I think the whole school. Apparently, we're shit at hiding things."

"Apparently," Dan said. "We need to-- I need to talk to you, in person. I need to see you." 

Phil couldn't get his hopes up, he knew this wasn't a guarantee of anything, but it was a chance, a chance he had been looking for since day one. "Okay," he said blandly, trying not to sound eager. "When?"

"Tomorrow," Dan said. "I need to think, and I need...I just need a little more time. Is that okay?"

"That's fine." It was perfect. Everything was fucking perfect.

He hung up and stared at his black phone screen in bemusement. There was this irrational and annoying voice in the back of his head saying that this wasn't real, that he was dreaming and he would wake up again just as disappointed as before, but that voice was overshadowed by the giant flower of happiness that was filling the hole in his sternum. They were going to talk, Dan wasn't angry at him anymore, things might actually work out for once.

"So?" Chris broke through his euphoric daydreaming. "What's the verdict?"

"I think..." Phil spoke slowly, cautiously, hoping to whatever higher power was above that he didn't jinx this. "I think things are gonna be okay."


	24. Tonight You’re Perfect

2 Weeks Later

The last thing that Phil wanted to waste his time on right now was another party because, as history would have it, they never seemed to end well. 

But this Friday was more than just the usual drunken teenagers dancing awkwardly to noise that was more bass than actual music. His friends were here, and FTC was in a week, and Elliot was leaving the day after. They had practice the next morning (9am sharp), so it was probably a bad idea to let them all drink the night away, but Phil was fine standing in the kitchen with soda in his cup instead of alcohol, and Dan was supposed to be there any moment.

There was no telling what they were anymore. It wasn't a relationship, Dan had made that very clear when they had talked a couple of weeks ago, and Phil was perfectly okay with that because it wasn't the right time for either of them. But sometimes it was weird, and they would be having a completely normal conversation, but Phil would let his hand linger a little too long on Dan's arm, or Dan would stare at the exposed skin of Phil's neck when he wasn't looking. Weird, but good.

Phil was happy, an impossible idea considering the shit show his life had been recently. He wanted things to be better, and he would try his damn hardest to make it so.

"Phil Lester! The loner in the kitchen, what's up, my guy?" Phil raised a dubious eyebrow at the doorway which a very intoxicated Grayson had just walked through. He stopped next to Phil, grabbed his cup, and scrunched his nose at the contents inside of it. "Soda, man? It's a party. You gotta let loose every once in a while."

Phil snatched his cup back. "The last time I 'let loose' at a party, I ended up making out with you, so I think I'll hold back."

"You didn't hate it," Grayson said with a smirk. And yeah, Phil wasn't going to lie about that. "Hey, so you'll never guess who's here."

"The Queen?" He guessed half halfheartedly. Grayson stuck out his tongue.

"Holden." And he was right, Phil really never would have guessed that. "Stuck in a corner, predictably, he's such a stuck up prick. Why's he even here?"

Phil shrugged. "Maybe he was curious. People get curious about stuff they've never done before." But Phil couldn't help thinking it was most likely a different reason. "Besides, I thought you two didn't completely hate each other anymore."

"Whatever, just cause he helped you pass Physics doesn't mean I have to be friends with him." Gray snatched an empty cup from the counter and one of the many bottles beside it. "He's an ass."

"I don't know, I think he's kind of cute." 

"Oh, really?" Grayson raised a surprised eyebrow at him. "Is Dan okay with that?"

"We're not dating, I can call other guys cute."

"But Holden, of all people?" 

Phil laughed at his appalled expression. "You know, I'm starting to think you guys have some unresolved tension."

Gray scoffed into his cup. "What the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

"Sexual tension."

"Fuck off," Gray replied, but he only looked disgusted for about two seconds before his eyes glazed over, obviously lost in his thoughts. Thoughts that Phil would gladly like to never know.

"Are you gonna go look for him?" Phil asked with a smirk, and Grayson was about to tell him off for it when Dan showed up next to them.

"Hi," he said with a small smile at Phil. His hair was curly and slightly damp, and the flannel he was wearing was a bit too big on him, but he looked good.

They weren't dating, but Phil wanted to kiss him all the fucking time.

"Good, I can leave." Grayson waved at them mockingly and headed out of the kitchen to the actual party.

"Use protection!" Phil shouted after him. Grayson flicked him off.

Dan was still staring after Gray with a blank expression. Phil didn't want to jump conclusions, but he had told Dan about the very short tryst between him and his band mate, and the reserved benevolence that Dan gave Gray now was highly noticeable. It was amusing.

"What was that about?" Dan asked him as he turned to face him again.

"Nothing, really," Phil said. "I think he's discovering some hidden feelings. Who knows, they're so confusing at that age."

Dan laughed, and Phil tried not to watch the way his entire face lit up with it.

"So, you'll never guess who showed up at our band practice today." Dan said, switching the topic easily.

"Oh, I've had enough guessing for today, just tell me."

"Chris."

Phil couldn't hide his surprised look. The last he had heard, Chris was more than okay with dumping any and all ideas of TCE and PJ into the pile of forbidden material in his mind. And yeah, he had tried to get his best friend to talk to PJ, if for no other reason than to just hear him out, but Chris hadn't said anything about actually doing it. 

"Wow," he said, still a little shocked. "What happened?"

"Dunno. They locked themselves in a different room for an hour, and there was a bit of shouting, but I think they're sorting their shit out. Finally."

"Finally," Phil agreed. Chris was lost somewhere in the crowd, most likely drunk and outrageous, and Phil made a mental note to bug him about it later. "Do you think that you guys are ready for tomorrow?"

Tomorrow, which was a Saturday, and also the first day of FTC. Heinous had been up all hours of the day practicing, arguing, writing, and playing, and now it was all going to be put to the test. Phil was just hoping they wouldn't lose the very first round.

"God, I hope so," Dan said with a heavy sigh. "With all the craziness that's been happening, I wouldn't be surprised if we absolutely fail." Phil had been apart of that craziness, but he nodded in agreement. "And everyone's getting wasted tonight, which means hangovers tomorrow. We're a mess."

"You'll be great," Phil tried to encourage him, nudging his shoulder gently. "Just be normal."

"I can't be normal in front of ten thousand people." That was a good point.

"Don't freak out about it," Phil said, and it was muscle memory to reach out and tangle his fingers into the back of Dan's hair reassuringly, he couldn't stop it if he wanted to. Dan visibly relaxed. "You'll only make it worse on yourself."

"I want to do this, but I don't know if I can." Dan spoke in a small voice, so low that Phil barely heard him. "All those people, and the band doesn't give a shit about taking caution. This is something serious to me, but I don't think I'll make it."

"You'll make it," Phil said, simple and firm. "We'll make it. Some way or another."

And Dan gave him this look, this stupid fucking look of trust and happiness, and it was almost too much for him to handle. A month ago, he had been alone and sad, and he never thought that he would be able to talk with Dan like this ever again, but he had been wrong, so gratefully wrong.

He knew they would make. Together.

The End


End file.
